


Proper Care and Feeding of Your Galra Companion: New Edition

by BlueRoboKitty



Series: It's the Galra Heat [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Blood and Gore, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Galra Keith (Voltron), Kemonomimi, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistakes were made, Pre-series speculation, Scent Kink, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Teammates with Benefits, Worldbuilding, gross aliens, keith is pretty much an actual cat, mild Alpha/Beta dynamic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:02:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRoboKitty/pseuds/BlueRoboKitty
Summary: As a half-Galra, Keith has been experiencing heat cycles since he was 12. Now over 20, his latest has gotten one of the other Paladins involved, Lance of all people. While Keith struggles to figure out how to explain himself to the rest of Team Voltron, who is now harboring one of their biggest enemies, Lance does what he can to keep Keith's secret hidden. But as the two work to keep their secret safe, they also have to somehow acknowledge the changed nature of their own relationship. And other forces at work won't let Keith get away with his secret so easily. A rewrite of the original Proper Care and Feeding of Your Galra Companion for Dummies, now deleted. Please read author notes in the first chapter for more details.





	1. A Galra in Heat Needs to be Treated With Extra Special Care. This is the Time When They Are at Their Most Vulnerable.

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary states, I have deleted and rewritten Proper Care and Feeding of Your Galra Companion for Dummies. 
> 
> This is something I should have done months ago, when I realized this story was taking a different turn. I didn't because I thought I could keep up with what I had. I can't. After discussing it with a few other people, I realized that from my perspective, I can't keep giving you something I know can be better. This story doesn't deserve something half-assed, and you guys, who have given me such overwhelming support, don't deserve something half-assed. 
> 
> So to you who have stuck with me since mid-July when I first began this fic, and to you new readers, I give you the new and greatly improved upon Galra Companion. Please enjoy!
> 
> For those wondering, yes, I did download the original. It does still exist, just not on AO3. [Dropbox](https://www.dropbox.com/s/9kzs5qa14c4o7rd/Proper%20Care%20and%20Feeding%20of.pdf?dl=0) for anyone who wants the original story.

**1**

Steam covers the tiny bathroom in a thin white haze that rolls lazily across the ceiling Keith gazes up at without actually seeing anything. It’s like he can no longer remember any specific details of his life, what day it is, where he is, and yet he can _feel_ everything with terrifying clarity. The way the humidity mats against each individual hair of his purple-gray fur. The shift of hot water against his body when someone slides into the tub to sit behind him. His ears, cat-like and black as his hair, twitch at the sharp sound of water spilling over the edge to splash against the floor. Then there’s a small hiss of pain.

His nostrils flare slightly when the scent overcomes him, a mixed odor of musk, citrus, salt, and old metal. Sharp and tangy and delicious, and drives him deeper into the fog.

He’s so fucking tired.

Keith’s fought aliens, stayed up for days at a time, spent the better part of a year agonizing over where his brother and his purpose disappeared to, and he’s never felt as exhausted as he does in this moment. The past few days have been nothing but a sensation of something burning him up from the inside out and nothing, no amount of sparring or jerking off, could get it to go away. For almost a week straight, he fought against the terrifyingly strong urge to fight or fuck anything that came within his eyesight, resisted eating every ration they have left in the Castle, and lay awake at night as his body reprimanded him for going against his instincts. 

Only Lance made it better. 

Which Keith’s not sure how to process, truth be told.

“Sorry, I took so long in the shower. I was like super gross, and I didn’t wanna get all the grossness in the bathwater.”

And Lance’s voice behind makes it all the more real. Keith can feel his hot breath against his ear, which flicks in protest.

“Stop smackin’ your ear against my face,” Lance complains.

“Stop breathing in it, then,” Keith snaps back.

His tongue feels so thick. The fatigue dulls his sharp tone.

He pushes past the fog. “Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you… okay? I smell blood.”

The bathroom becomes so silent, Keith can actually hear the gentle rippling of the water.

“Just my lip, is all,” Lance replies in his usual nonchalant manner whenever the opposite is most likely true. “You fuckin’ got me good, dude.” He sighs dramatically. “Probably gonna die of blood loss now.”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Keith grumbles, annoyed with how Lance always blows shit out of proportion, annoyed how he immediately remembers kissing Lance with such hunger like he’s been starving all of his life. The feel of his teeth sinking deep into soft flesh, tasting the blood rushing to the surface to meet the tip of his tongue. Lance didn’t even notice, not until Keith licked the wound and he gasped with pain.

Flames of the heat cycle flicker deep in Keith’s stomach, and his body tingles all over as it reacts to the memories of what happened in the room just beyond that door. He’s suddenly so, so aware of Lance sitting naked and so close to him.

 _Please no,_ Keith begs his body. _Not again, not right now._

He’s so tired. So, so tired. He can’t go through this again. He’ll die of exhaustion at this rate.

Oh, God, now Lance’s dramatics are starting to rub off on him, fuck.

His ears flick again when he hears the popping of a shampoo bottle's lid, and then they droop down when Lance’s hands are on his head to gently massage into his scalp. An alien equivalent to lavender now adds its fragrance to the air, and it is not unpleasant whatsoever. This helps. Very much, actually. The heat within Keith dwindles down to barely embers. A low rumbling seeps from his throat as he relaxes even more.

“You’re _purring,”_ Lance remarks with slight surprise. “That’s actually pretty neat. I didn’t know you could do that, have you always been able to do that?”

“Uh-huh,” Keith replies absentmindedly, and hugs his knees closer to his chest. He’s not entirely sure what else to with his arms. This futuristic blue capsule they are using as a bathtub can barely squeeze in one person, much less two, and it’s probably not even meant to be a bathtub, anyway. With Lance’s knobby knees on either side of him, Keith’s quite trapped in here.

But he doesn’t _feel_ trapped as he normally would in such a close proximity with another person. It actually feels _good_ to be this close to Lance. Too good.

This is definitely going to be a problem.

“Why are you here, Lance?” Keith demands after a soft sigh.

Lance pauses with his scritches, and Keith regrets opening his mouth. “Whadya mean? I thought I was helpin’ you out with your _thing.”_

“It’s not a _thing_ , I’m in heat.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

Oh, boy did Lance get it. Keith’s been getting mating cycles since he was twelve, with this latest one being the most intense yet, and Lance showed up in his room like a miracle to let Keith do whatever he wanted to him. _Whatever he wanted._ And Keith took him up on that offer and damn the consequences.

“I mean, you remember everything, right?” And Lance’s question holds a note of concern. As if he’s worried he’s done something wrong. Something very wrong.

Keith nods. Like he can ever forget how Lance felt beneath his fingers and tasted beneath his tongue. Ever. Throughout the fog, this single memory stands out with profound clarity.

So, of course, his cheeks warm with bright red embarrassment. “I only meant right now. Like why are you here right now? I’m fine.”

Another tick goes by.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lance asks. Nothing in his voice is defensive. It's an honest question. A fair question. 

Keith shifts uncomfortably, pressing his mouth against his knee. He doesn’t want Lance to leave. He really, really doesn’t. Lance is _Lance_ and somewhat obnoxious, but he’s warm and his touch is nice and it feels good to have him close. “I… I didn’t say that,” he mutters finally, his face burning.

“Heh. You can just tell me what you mean. Dork.”

Keith can only imagine the smirk he’s wearing. That same smirk that always makes Keith’s knees a little weak.

“Close your eyes.”

Keith does so, and then there’s a pleasant rush of hot water over his head as Lance rinses the soap out of his hair. Keith shivers.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

The rinsing stops, and Lance starts scrubbing down Keith’s back. Shea butter or something like it. So nice.

“Besides, I can’t just fuck and leave,” Lance adds. “I’m just not that kinda guy. Cuddles and pillowtalk, I am _all_ about that life, sappy as it sounds. Guess I’m just too romantic for my own good, even with the guy I despise.” He chuckles. “Joking. I’m jokin’. I don’t despise you, haven’t for a while. I guess you're an okay dude.”

Keith already knows this. Lance is rambling. He does that when he's nervous. 

“Lance…”

“Except for that one time with this girl named Julie. But that was only because her parents came home like super earlier than we were expectin’. Quiznak, that was fun, lemme tell ya, I had to leap out a second story window – “

_“Lance.”_

With as much effort as he can muster, Keith twists around so that he can look Lance in the eyes, and the other Paladin stops his rambling immediately. His deep brown face is flushed a bright pink, either from the hot steam or this whole situation that they have thrown themselves into without considering any of the consequences. Maybe both. Those eyes as blue as the oceans back on Earth reflect the same worry and uncertainty Keith feels.

What have they done?

They fucked, that’s what they’ve done. Keith’s heat cycle went completely out of this control this time, and then Lance catches him trying to all but masturbate himself to death, and then Keith fucks his own teammate and rival raw with just enough lucidity left to ensure the act has been at least mutually consensual.

The fog actually lifts a little bit. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to,” Keith says softly. “I mean it.” Lance has done more than enough for him already. It would be selfish to make him stay.

Lance’s eyes narrow with an irritated glare, and Keith can’t say he’s displeased with the pushback he’s getting. “And I meant it when I said I’m not a fuck-then-leave kinda guy. Didya not hear any of that?”

Keith sighs with exasperation. Lance is so stubborn. And, unfortunately, so is he. Butting heads like this is just par for the course between the two of them. “Yes, I did, I just…” He trails off.

“Just what?” Lance prompts impatiently.

“I’m a _Galra,_ Lance.”

As if Lance can act like this little fact doesn't count for a whole heck of a lot in this scenario. Keith looks like a Galra, and that's enough to safely conclude that he is one. The purple-gray fur, the large feline ears, the purring and snarling and the mating cycle that grows worse with every year Keith doesn't actually do something about it. They've been to dozens of galaxies and hundreds of planets over these past few deep space years, and no alien species so far looks like Keith does. He's at least partially Galra somehow, and Lance just fucking _accepts_ it.

“Yes, we’ve been over this already. I said back when you transformed in bed that I don’t care. Remember? Go-with-the-flow and what not?”

“I thought you were only saying that because you were horny!”

And there it is. Right out there for them to chew on.

Lance’s jaw drops, and for a tick, he looks legitimately hurt. “What kinda sex-crazed maniac do you take me for!?" he shrieks, and Keith's ears pin back at the pitch. "Okay, fine, I flirt a lot and I like sex _a lot,_ but when have I _ever_ tried to get with a _Galra,_ our biggest enemy? Name one time, _Mr. Class Leader._ And, no, _you_ don’t count!”

“Thelki from the Nelrosys moon,” Keith deadpans.

“Uh…”

“Maxlhik from planet Drathica.”

“Now hold on – “

“Kh’jira, Nhumi, Airyn, Ryshu – “

“Okay, _okay!_ But did I _sleep_ with any of them?”

It’s Keith’s turn to be taken aback, ears twitching. “H-how should I know!?”

He’s not going to say that he knows because he can _smell_ it on Lance whenever he has a tryst. He's so not. The world’s already mortifying enough in this moment.

“Well, you certainly remembered all their names!”

“I remember _everyone’s_ name!”

“Except mine,” Lance grumbles.

“Well, these names were actually important.”

“Ouch! _Jerk!”_

Lance splashes him, and a smile tugs at Keith’s lips. For a tick, a brief tick, it’s like nothing has changed between the two of them. They’re rivals who bicker and argue and do stupid stuns to one-up the other and get into loads more trouble than they ever bargain for because of it.

Which sounds horrifyingly accurate to the current situation. 

“Okay, but they weren’t _Galra_ Galra,” Lance points out, never a person who lets go of things easily.

Keith arches a doubting eyebrow.

“They were _rebels,_ Keith. They weren’t like actually part of the Empire or anything. And mostly everything turned out okay. They didn’t try to kill us. Well, except for Airyn and her crew. I think it was because I actually slept with her. Did I? Oh, shit yeah, she had this thing with electricity, _hooo_ boy.”

Keith snorts as he glances away. The situation with Airyn happened a little over two weeks ago, Lance stumbling back to the group after hours of going missing with a stupid smirk on his face, reeking of after-sex musk and enough pheromones to fill a Khav'lunian whorehouse. Typical fucking Lance. Always giving everyone the benefit of a doubt and a piece of his ass. It's either his sweet-natured naiveté or his thirsty dick that's gonna get him killed one day, and it’s shocking that neither have already. 

The argument dies away, and awkward silence falls in its place once again. Only the sound of water splashing as Lance rinses him off. Despite himself, Keith leans back to rest against Lance’s chest, head tucked beneath his sharp chin.

“K-Keith?” Lance’s voice cracks a little. It’s kind of cute.

“You can stay with me tonight,” Keith mumbles. His body’s grown heavy, but in a good, relaxed way. Like he’s floating. “I’ll allow it.”

“Um… s-sure… okay.” Lance nods against his head, and Keith smirks a little.

There's something nice about having Lance all to himself now. 

 

**2**

Excruciating, mind-numbing pain rips Lance out of his dreams that morning.

Maybe it’s morning. By the soft glow of the blue lights in his room, it doesn’t look like the artificial day cycle has begun just yet.

This is what they use to track the time. You don’t stop needing sleep just because you’re out in deep space with no sun to go by. For the sake of keeping everyone’s circadian rhythms in sync, because you also can’t form Voltron if one of the team is sleep deprived due to a sleep schedule different from everyone else’s, the Castle’s artificial environmental system was calibrated to include a 24-hour day cycle. Not accounting for daylight savings time or seasons or anything complicated like that. Just a straightforward, twelve hours of “day” and twelve hours of “night”.

During the day cycle, the lights in the Castle are bright yellow to imitate sunlight. The temperature rises a few degrees. The lights even respond to simulated “weather”, audio files Hunk installed in the system to imitate the sounds of Earth’s weather. They would especially brighten for clear sunny days with chirping birds, dim for overcast days with wind, and darken considerably with the occasional bright flash for a storm. Lance specifically requested that one.

At night, the lights darken to a faint blue and the temperature cools down. Crickets sing through the speakers. And once a month, the light brightens to a soft silver akin to a full moon – another one of Lance’s requests and a way to track the months that pass. Not that they've been keeping too close an eye on that. Nobody really wants to know how long they've been out here. 

With all that, Pidge even collects many – safe – species of plant life to decorate the Castle with, to green up the place a little, so to speak.

All these things are important to fight off the psychiatric issues that often came with space flight, and Shiro confirmed the same measures were taken for his own craft back when he and his crew flew all the way to Kerberos at the edge of Earth’s solar system. While Allura and Coran, like the rest of their people, are used to space travel, five humans from Earth were a far different story. Anxiety and depression are just two of the common negative psychological effects on human space travelers, and those are people just exploring the solar system, not engaging in intergalactic warfare. And honestly, the two Alteans seem far more relaxed and chipper since these changes. The Castle of Lions feels like a their own little planet now.

Lances supposes he’s grateful for waking up because he’s been having the weirdest damn dream. Not that his dreams have been anything less than weird since he arrived here. Space fucks with your head quite a bit. But this dream is more disturbing than weird.

He and Keith were fighting. Like, not their usual bickering or rivalry or anything like that. Like, _legit_ squaring off against in each other in battle. An honest-to-God battle. In a dark world filled with ruins. 

He tries not to dwell too much on it. He doesn’t believe in premonitions or psychic energies or any of that. He barely believes in God, settles for the most distant version of the Divine, his religion more to do with keeping with family traditions than personal beliefs. Dreams are just that, weird little movies your brain plays to pass the time and process information, and his subconscious, which gets as easily bored as he does, tends to give him some doozies to experience. Nothing new here.

But how he _felt_ in the dream shakes him a little.

It was like he really, really _wanted_ to hurt Keith.

White-hot pain stabs through him again, and Lance whimpers, and then it worsens when he tries to curl up in a ball for relief. He yelps, and then slaps his hand over his mouth when he remembers that Keith is actually, literally sleeping with him, in his room, in his _bed._

The other doesn’t stir, however. Keith’s passed out in his pillow, not moving except for a very slow rise and fall of his torso as he breathes. It’s not like this is the first time Lance has ever seen Keith asleep, but after such an intense week of the shit Keith’s been going through with this weird mating thing of his, it’s nice to see him actually resting. He looks so peaceful. Sweet, even.

Then Lance immediately thinks of his dream, and more sharp pain surges through every nerve in his system at the same time, and he tries not to cry out again as he doubles over with tears swelling in his eyes. His stomach churns, and he wants to puke from the agony. Where did it even come from?

He needs to get to a healing cyropod in the infirmary, that’s what he needs to do. He’s cleaned enough of the little bastards to know how they work. Putting himself in one for a few ticks can’t be that hard. This isn’t a pain he can just ride through. Several scars on his body are a testament to the shit he’s endured, and even they hurt sometimes, but nothing like this. Never has something felt like it’s trying to rip through his body from the inside.

He shifts to get off the bed, and feels his pants sticking to the sheets. The wet spot beneath him registers with horrific realization, and he touches it, and his heart nearly stops when he recognizes the dark stain even in this dim light.

Fuck.

He hangs onto the wall as he limps to the infirmary, every step sending lightning bolts of agony from his ass, of all places, to the rest of his body. Pain explodes in flashes of neon in his vision that blinds him practically every other tick. His legs can barely carry him. By the time he gets there, he's sweating buckets and blood is running down his ankles.

“Lance!” Coran calls cheerfully from one of the cyropods. “You’re up early! And just in time. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand with some cleaning? Wake up those muscles and get the blood pumping?”

Good ol’ Coran, already up so early to take care of some morning chores before breakfast. Then the smile and the twinkle in his eyes fade and the marks on his wrinkled cheeks glow a faint blue with alarm when he notices Lance's current state. “What happened?” A straightforward demand. No accusations, no jokes about what Lance has gotten into this time. Princess Allura's chief adviser is immediately at Lance's side, holding him to keep him from collapsing because Lance is about ten ticks away from fainting. 

“Um…”

Lance isn't sure how to respond, and usually he's pretty damn good at bullshitting his way out of sticky situations. Sticky. Aha. “I prefer not to say,” is all he can manage with a tiny smile. "Just somethin' stupid, is all." 

There's really nothing he can say that doesn't out Keith one way or another.

Coran looks like he wants to push the point, but then he only nods. In a few minutes, Lance exchanges his Blue Paladin pajamas for a healing suit that regulates his vitals, and cringes at the amount of blood staining his pants.

Keith really got him good.

He steps into the pod and feels the warm shiver of the initial health scan. A diagram of his body and several indicators written in Altean characters pop up on the holoscreen. Some of these characters flash red, beep with warning.

“Your lower gastrointestinal tract is heavily inflamed, specifically in the rectal area,” Coran remarks as casually as discussing the nature of space dust. “And I’m sure you don’t need me to get started over what’s happened to your poor anal canal. You will need about four-hundred-and-eighty ticks in here, at least.”

Coran gives Lance this deep look then, a look that makes Lance flush all over. Over the past few years, Lance has learned that Altean biology is not that much different from a human’s, meaning their, um, sexual activities aren’t probably that much different, either, and this is something Coran has definitely seen before.

“Lance, are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” Coran asks gently. “Nothing you say will leave this room, I promise.”

Lance’s teeth scrape over his bottom lip only to make him cringe from the sharp pain of the deep cut where Keith bit him last night. It’s scabbed over, a scar already forming, a reminder of last night that will remain a part of his body for the rest of his life. “Keith and I were just bonding a little, y’know, adrenaline and cabin fever and all that and, uh, it just went a little too far. Trust me, at the time, we didn’t really notice.”

Fuck, he just kinda threw Keith’s name out there without meaning to.

Coran considers and pulls at his thick orange mustache. “In the future, I request that you and Keith be a little more careful with your bonding exercises. These pods can only do so much, and will eventually become less effective after so many uses. You should only use them in case a battle with the Galra goes wrong, not because of your recreational activities. I’ll come back to check on you in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks, Coran.”

Coran gives him one last look of concern and a small smile before closing Lance into the pod. “Don’t mention it, this is what I’m here for,” is the last thing Lance hears before the pod induces him into a coma and the healing process begins.

 

**3**

“Yo, Lance, where’ve you been, bro?”

Hunk greets him the moment Lance steps into the dining hall with a plate of goopy alien food. Breakfast has been well underway for at least a half hour now; Lance can hear the energetic voices of Hunk and Pidge all the way from his bedroom. The pair of nerds are lively this morning.

“You were supposed to help me test out the RPG I had just finished,” Hunk continues with a pout, and that explains the enthusiasm between him and Pidge. Nerding out, as usual, and this is the kind of nerding out that Lance can be an active part of. Hunk’s been working on that video game for the past five simulated lunar cycles. Couldn’t stop talking about it.

Lance feels a heavy wave of guilt pushing down on him.

Video games were brought up some time ago as another way to pass the time and fight off psychiatric issues with some semblance of normalcy in their new, drastically abnormal lives. And Hunk’s been looking forward to Lance looking forward to testing out this new game. Last night was the big reveal. And Lance disappeared to literally fuck around with Keith.

Which is a memory he’s probably not ever going to be used to having.

Much less the feeling of how much he enjoyed it.

“I’m so sorry, Hunk,” he apologizes as he sits down next to his best friend. “I swear, once we get some free time from our formation drills, I’m totes there.” He smiles brightly. He’s been excited for this game of Hunk’s, he really has. Hunk is a genius, and incredibly creative.

Back at the Galaxy Garrison when Lance and Hunk met as roommates, Lance eventually learned that Hunk originally wanted to be a video game designer. Create incredible games that push today’s gaming technology to its limits. But circumstances enlisted him into the military instead, made him a flight engineer. It’s no small secret that Hunk’s been rather bitter about that, but with Lance around, he still worked on all his ideas between assignments, anyway, his stories, his original characters. And Lance _devoured_ them all. Now Hunk’s finally fulfilled his dream and created a video game, even if it's just for the seven of them to enjoy. 

Wow, Lance feels absolutely shitty now.

In his defense, he didn’t expect things with Keith to go down the way they have. He never in ten thousand years would imagine he’d help a teammate and brother out through use of his own body.

He’d never imagine it would feel better than anything he’s ever experienced. And, yeah, he’s been around the block a little.

Not that any of that is an excuse, however. Not without revealing things about Keith that aren’t really any of his business. So he just gives Hunk a cute smile and hopes the big guy has it in his heart to forgive him.

Hunk gives him a small smile in return. “It’s okay, bro. Keith’s still feeling sick, isn’t he?”

It takes a tick for Lance to answer, and he forces down a chunk of goo. “Y-yeah,” he finally says. “It was pretty bad last night. I dunno if he ate somethin' or it's space sickness or what but – Hunk?”

A clatter of chairs and Hunk is all the way at the other end of the table with his food, cowering next to Pidge who has also moved.

“No offense, dude, but if you’re sick, please stay away from me.”

"Yeah, I don't wanna risk it," Pidge adds.

“I don’t think it’s contagious,” Lance retorts. “C'mon, you guys, get back here, I feel fine. A little tired because I was up all night with Keith. What?”

Hunk and Pidge exchange glances, and Pidge snorts.

Lance shakes his head and yanks out another sporkful of goo off his plate. “Oh, get your minds outta the gutter. Not like _that.”_

They do not need to know how it was absolutely like _that._ Lance would never hear the end of it. They’d never be able to form Voltron again, Lance would be way too embarrassed –

Wait.

Fuck, oh _fuck._

Forming Voltron. Mind-melding thing. Connecting their minds is how they are even able to form that big ass robot in the first place, much less move the limbs perfectly in sync in battle. One unit, one goal, and that other leader stuff Shiro likes to say. A sum greater than its parts.

What if they look into his mind, and they see the things he and Keith actually did last night? No, that would be mortifying on life threatening levels, but if they see what Keith _is,_ that is an entirely different level of _bad._

“Lance?”

Lance realizes he’s been staring at his spork of goo without eating it. “Huh?”

“Ohmigod, he does have the space plague!” Hunk yells, leaning closer to Pidge. “Where’s the space Lysol, we need to make some space Lysol! No, you stay right over there, Pestilence!”

Lance rolls his eyes with a sigh. What has he done to deserve any of this?

“I’m still surprised we haven’t really caught any kind of alien disease while we’ve been out here,” Pidge remarks as she straightens her glasses up her nose. “That immunity shot Coran gave us is really effective.”

“Okay, well, if it’s so effective, then how come Keith’s all laid up in bed since last night?” Hunk demands.

“I dunno, it’s _Keith,_ he’s always been a bit weird,” Lance points out in exasperation. He’s only been covering for Keith for ten minutes, and already he feels a migraine coming.

This is going to _suck._

 

**4**

Lance has one bottle of lube left, mostly full. Keith’s still asleep when he checks his “special” drawer for those “special” moments. He hasn’t moved. It’s been hours and he hasn’t moved. Lance makes sure he’s still breathing and then tucks him back in. Growing up with younger cousins, and then his siblings’ children, Lance’s parental instincts are pretty high. He can’t help attempting to take care of people, especially those close to him.

Funny, he’s never really considered Keith all that close to him. Which he is, but Lance has never considered it. It just happened. As natural as breathing.

Lance feels a little guilty for the blood still on the sheets. He’s able to pull the sheet itself off – Keith is so deep asleep he doesn’t even notice even when Lance jostles him around a bit too much. But the stain has soaked into the mattress, and there’s really nothing Lance can do about that. So for now, he puts a pillow and another blanket over the spot and hopes that Keith won’t roll into it. He doesn’t think he will – Keith is completely dead to the world right now.

 

**5**

They cancel formation drills for today. With Keith out of commission, there’s not a whole lot that can be done. Lance tests out Hunk’s video game, and he loves it. “The hot guy with all the chicks, like that isn’t me!” he laughs.

Faint pink blossoms over Hunk’s cheeks. “A little, yeah. The others are in there, too.” And he points at all the little richly detailed 2D sprites on the screen. “The big warrior who guides you is Shiro. And the cute dwarf girl is Pidge – “

“Cute and _tough!”_ Pidge snaps from her spot on the couch, legs folded beneath her laptop. “Cute and _tough!”_

“Of course, you would be cute and tough, you’re a _dwarf,”_ Hunk replies. “I even gave you a little beard, all braided and stuff.”

“Acceptable.”

“And the adorable elf enchantress is _obviously_ Allura,” Lance remarks. “I can’t wait to romance her.”

“Actually, she’s not romanceable,” Hunk counters, poking his fingers together a bit sheepishly.

“What, _why?”_

“Plot reasons. And I also I felt really weird about giving romance lines to NPCs based off of us.”

“Who’s the surly catboy?” Pidge inquires, then she giggles. “Please tell me that’s Keith.”

“Oh, that’s so Keith.” Hunk cackles, and Pidge giggles even harder, and Lance feels his face grow a little warm. The sprite even looks a little bit like Keith, dark hair and pale complexion and everything.

It’s cute. Like really cute.

“Oh, hey, Lance, I didn’t notice until now but what happened to your lip, dude?”

Lance really needs to get a grip on himself and stop spacing out like this, and he’s grateful Hunk didn’t seem to notice this time. He touches his lip, where Keith bit him.

Sometimes, if you don’t get to a cyropod in time, there’s only so much healing it can do and preventing scars would not be one of them at that point. They all have scars, deep wounds from battle that never fully healed. In a way, Lance is kinda grateful.

It makes last night seem more real.

Like he needs the reminder.

Lance grins and shrugs. “Keith punched me.”

And it’s not entirely a lie, it really is Keith’s fault.

Hunk stares and Pidge’s glasses nearly fall of her face. “You two got in a real fight?” they squeak at the same time.

There are times when Lance and Keith get a little out of hand with their rivalry, times when a few nerves are struck and buttons are pressed and blows are a bit low. Times when they get a little too enthusiastic sparring against each other. But they've never really engaged in an actual, physical _fight._

Except that one time. That’s a time nobody likes to think about. A darker chapter in the Voltron saga. 

And then there's Lance's dream. 

Lance quickly backtracks. “Nonononono, nothin’ like that!” he assures them, waving his hands and shaking his head. “We were just sparrin’ and stuff earlier yesterday. And we roughhoused a bit. And he clipped me in the mouth.”

Hunk’s eyes narrow a little, scrutinizing. “So Keith punched you… for fun?”

Lance shrugs. “Hey, we don’t hold back.”

“Boys are so damn stupid,” Pidge snorts just loud enough for the other two to hear. "Seriously, you two airheads are meant for each other."

 

**6**

Allura is gorgeous as always with her silver curls contrasting with her dark copper skin and adorably pointed ears and the way she arches one of her cute little eyebrows and sets her lips in a doubtful frown at Lance’s request to go on an early supply run. Dinner comes to a stand-still as Coran and the other Paladins look on curiously. This request of Lance’s has come out of nowhere.

And Keith's skipped dinner again.

“Because Keith is sick,” Lance clarifies. “I’m thinkin’ that maybe we should go get some medicine for him or somethin’ to help him feel better?”

“We’re also startin’ to run low on food,” Hunk quickly chimes in, trying to help Lance’s case. “And just for the record, so that everyone here in on the same page, it’s not _me_ who cut into the rations this time. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed Keith’s been eating _a lot_ lately. Like, he’s such a tiny person, where’s he even keeping it all?”

“He’s not _that_ small, he’s probably still growing,” Pidge points out. “Technically, adolescence doesn’t end until your twenties, when you’re fully cognitively developed.”

Lance keeps his mouth shut because Keith's definitely had a growth spurt _somewhere,_ but he’s not saying a damn word.

It does make him wonder if Galra and humans aren’t actually all that different when it comes to puberty and growth. Galra have fur so it’s a safe bet that they're mammals. And Keith is living proof that a Galra and a human can successfully breed together, which is more information than Lance ever wanted to know about the Galra. Christ, Keith’s mother must have been quite the _babe_ if a Galra fell for her. Then again, Keith never talks about his parents except that he barely knows they existed to begin with, so it’s not like Lance can judge the nature of their relationship.

But does this mean Galra have been on Earth before the whole thing with Kerberos and Shiro and finding the Blue Lion? Like, it has to, what other possible explanation can there be?

Allura clears her throat, turning her gaze away from Shiro. It’s clear the two of them have been communicating with their eyes while the table banter has been going on. Hunk swears they're dating or something like that, because he’s a huge gossip who loves that sort of innocent drama, but Lance tries not to think about it. Sure, Allura is her own person who does what she pleases, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t break his heart a little. He really did like her back then. He sorta still likes her now.

But now he has his hands full with Keith.

“Request denied,” she announces in a voice of firm authority. “At least, for now.”

“Why?” Lance demands and his voice is sharper than he intends because it’s not like Allura is saying ‘no’ out of malice.

“I’m getting to that,” she replies gently. “I know you’re concerned. I am, too. And if Keith does not recover within the next few days or worsens, I will absolutely set out to find medicine for him. But I need to consider the safety of the rest of my Paladins, as well.”

“Safety?” Hunk echoes, curling back a little in his chair. “We’re in danger?”

“We wanted to wait and tell you all when we were absolutely certain,” Shiro explained. “I don’t want any of us to start panicking, but Allura suspects that someone might be stalking us.”

“Who?” Pidge asks, her eyes wide.

Allura sighs, tapping one finger against her chin. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. So far they’ve kept their distance, so I don’t think they are Galra. They could be bounty hunters. Or another rebel group trying to take Voltron for themselves. But the Castle’s long-range scanners have been picking up the same electromagnetic signature for the past three galaxies. I do have a plan to isolate them, but it will take some time to prepare. In the meantime, I don’t want any of us to separate, do you understand? We have enough supplies to last us at least another one of Earth’s lunar cycles, which should give us plenty of time to take care of this stalker issue. Coran.”

“Yes, Princess?” The old Altean stands straight at attention by her side.

“Draw some blood from Keith, and see if you can create another immunity shot that can combat this illness of his.”

“Right away, Princess.”

Lance feels a rush of panic. Keith’s blood would _definitely_ give away that he’s a Galra. He's seen enough crime shows to know how blood works.

Although, he’s not sure why he cares so much. It’s not like it’s up to him to keep Keith’s secrets safe for him or anything.

Except that what happened last night feels like some bond of trust has come over the two of them. There was real fear in Keith’s eyes when Lance found out about his heritage, accidental or not. It just feels _wrong_ for the others to find out this way, before Keith can properly explain himself, defend himself.

And that’s not even explaining _how_ Keith ended up in Lance’s room to begin with.

“Y’know what, I think Allura’s right,” Lance remarks, his brain racing at a mile a minute. “Keith’s just a little under the weather, but I don’t think it’s anything that serious, yeah? He’s mostly just been sleepin’ all day, so I think he’ll be right as rain and all that by tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Allura inquires, now leaning her chin against her hands. There’s something in her gaze of deep blue irises and magenta pupils that Lance can’t quite place. As if she knows something. Those damn mice of hers.

Lance swallows a bit and nods, smiling cheerfully. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

She sits back. “Alright then. I’ll trust you to keep an eye on him, Lance. Let us know the moment his condition gets worse.”

 

**7**

And that’s how Lance ends up becoming Keith’s nurse on top of his fucktoy and his maid.

Okay, that’s a little much even for him. He’s not really any of these things. Whatever happened last night, it’s most likely a one-time thing. The cleaning, well, a lot of that mess is also his own. And it’s not like Keith is any mindset to clean. His room can’t exactly stay like that, either.

But Lance does start to reconsider his life choices as he brings a plate of food goo to his room for Keith to eat. The others want to visit, but they’re too afraid of catching the “space plague” so they leave it all up to Lance for now.

The room is even darker with the night cycle. Lance turns up the lights just a little bit, just enough to see by, enough to make out the shape of Keith lying on the bed and some details. He still hasn’t moved. Sweet baby Jesus, Lance would certainly like to be able to sleep like this for an entire day. Fighting in space is exhausting.

“Keith?” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Keith, I brought you some dinner. You gonna wake up?”

He reaches out to gently shake Keith. The other stirs, actually _stirs,_ for the first time for the entire day. His eyes glow gold as he blinks up at Lance, and wow, that’s kinda freaky. Lance isn't frightened, per se, more… curious. Excited, even.

Keith sits up. “Lance?” he asks, voice thick and groggy.

“Hey, buddy. Glad to see you finally return to the land of the livin’. I brought you some homemade food good, sure to bring a bounce right back in your step.”

Keith glances at the plate and then back at Lance, and the bed shifts as he leans in close. Lance's pulse jumps wildly as Keith breathes against his neck.

“I…”

Suddenly, Lance can’t think. Words are impossible. He speaks both English and Spanish and a little bit of Altean, and all three languages are failing him right now. Keith continues to nose his neck, not doing anything, just breathing and making his skin prickle with the heat of each exhale.

“I…” Lance tries again, heart racing all the way to his skull as his stomach drops to his feet.

“Smell good,” Keith sighed, and Lance shudders.

“Dinner…” Lance chokes out. “I brought you dinner.”

Suddenly, the plate flies out of Lance’s hands to slam into the floor, splattering food goo everywhere as Keith grabs him and pins him to the bed.

“Keith!”

His name comes out of Lance’s mouth in barely a gasp, and Keith shoves his shirt up, exposing his torso to the cool air. At least, Keith isn’t ripping his clothes off. Thank Mother Mary for small miracles.

The _look_ in Keith’s eyes. Golden. Hungry. Predatory. He’s going to _devour_ Lance and 

 

_god_

 

Lance will let him. He’s already losing himself. His body trembles with anticipation, and Keith has only touched him.

Keith’s hot tongue runs along Lance’s collar, and Lance no longer thinks of anything else as his hands slide over Keith's back.

 

**8**

The good news is, they’ve used lube this time.

The bad news is, they use the entire bottle. Every last drop. And it's Lance’s last bottle, too.

Now it’s a _problem._

 


	2. Galra Have Many Needs, So Be Sure You Can Keep Up Their Demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith go on a supply run despite Allura's warning, and it goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely overwhelmed at all the positive reception I got for this rewrite, because a part of me was certain that it was too late and I had made a big mistake. Your support has been nothing short of amazing, and I hope you will continue to enjoy this story. Thank you very much!

**1**

Allura’s gonna kill him.

Like for real kill him. Like he’ll need to be buried and stuff. Funeral rites. _If_ they find his body.

At least, he’ll make a pretty corpse?

But Lance doesn’t really have a choice here, does he?

 

**2**

“C’mon already!”

“Wha-? Wha’s goin’ on?”

“We're goin’ somewhere. C’mon, suit up.”

“But… ‘M still sleepy.”

“And you say _I'm_ the whiny one.”

Keith grumbles incoherently under his breath, but puts his Red armor on anyway. He's achingly slow about it, however, moving like he's underwater, and Lance grits his teeth and tries to bear it.

It's like sleeping the entire day yesterday, waking up only just long enough to smash Lance into the mattress a once or four times before immediately passing out again, wasn't enough. And Lance gets it, he really does, Keith is going through some shit right now. But would it kill Keith to act like his shit has spilled over onto Lance as well? Can't he at least move like this is the calm before the massive shitstorm that’s gonna explode over all of them?

After a thousand plus ten years, Keith’s finally suited up, and Lance wastes no time getting him into the Blue Lion hangar. Since they can't exactly zipline there, because Keith can barely walk and like hell Lance is carrying him, they have to take the long way around. Keith is no help here, either, just keeps slumping against Lance and asking where they’re going in the middle of the night cycle.

“Shopping,” is Lance's reply. May as well keep things simple.

“You don't need me for that,” Keith mumbles through a heavy yawn.

“Can't exactly leave you here.”

Lance considered going by himself as he mulled over his plans earlier. It certainly would make things simpler, faster, and Keith wouldn’t get in trouble alongside him. The trade planet Maek, in the heart of the Nlvarlika galaxy is nearby, and Lance doesn’t need a wormhole to get there. Going by himself wouldn't be a problem at all. 

But…

That still doesn’t mean it’s not a long ride regardless, at least several hours if not half a day. He can't risk leaving Keith here for that long all by himself. Judging by his sluggish composure as Lance hoists him into the Blue Lion, the others would still think Keith is sick, and depending on how you want to look at it, they technically aren’t wrong. Coran would draw his blood for a new immunity shot. And Keith’s genetics would be right there for them all to see.

That little voice inside Lance nags at him that this isn’t his problem. Keith’s a grown-ass man. Twenty by now, at least. He’ll be fine. Maybe they can leave out the steamy bits, but he’s not gonna get booted from Team Voltron just because he’s a Galra. Partially Galra. Whatever. He’s done way too much for the cause, been there for the team, devoted himself on an almost zealous level to protect and serve the rest of the universe. Which isn’t surprising considering how much of a Johnny Air Force he was back at the Galaxy Garrison.

Oh, the Garrison actually did give him the boot, though.

The Castle of Lions isn’t the Galaxy Garrison, of course. But that’s enough for a voice of doubt to chime in its opinion, much tinier but far more effective. They all have their reasons for hating the Galra. Shiro and his arm. Pidge and her family. Coran, Allura, their lost civilization. Even Hunk’s developed some very passionate views about their battle with the Galra over the years. Sure, they’ve worked with Galra rebels against the Empire, but that doesn’t mean they got along. They were allies in the barest minimal meaning of the word. Reluctant and suspicious.

Maybe the team won’t be cruel enough to take their frustrations out on Keith, of course not, but what if they start treating him like those rebels, like he's now skeevy and untrustworthy? The very idea of Voltron is formed on trust, and without that trust, there’s no way they can make that colossal mystical robot so much as walk across the floor. 

How in the the fuck did things get so messed up?

Lance doesn’t think it will come to that. But the thing about doubt is that it’s like a virus or bacterial infection. All it takes is one small opening for it to come in uninvited and then spread to do its damage. Logic and trust aside, it’s enough that Lance worries about the team’s predictably negative reactions to Keith. He can’t risk leaving Keith here alone. At the very least, Keith needs someone there to back him up when that shitstorm finally breaks. And it will. Oh, it fucking will. 

Lance dumps Keith on the bed. Blue, like all the other Lions, is a cat-shaped spaceship, after all, and comes with all kinds of comforting accommodations including a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a small sleeping area with a bed. Lance comes in here once a week to give her a good scrub and restock. Spare clothes hang in the closet, and the drawers are stuffed with little knickknacks and souvenirs to keep him busy on long trips when they don’t have wormhole access. Like right now.

Speaking of.

Lance digs through one of the drawers, and sure the fuck enough there is another bottle of lubricant. Only two-thirds full or so, definitely not enough to make him rethink this little space joyride of his.

He laughs, hand on his head. _God._ He really is a thirsty manwhore, isn’t he?

“What’s that?”

Keith watches Lance curiously, head tilted, ears twitching. He still hasn’t changed back from his Galra form, and now Lance is struck with whole new feeling of hilarity. He's used to it now. In fact, Keith is kinda cute. Especially the ears. God, those  _ears._

“Just another bottle of lube,” Lance replies. He shrugs casually, even though his mouth has gone completely dry and Keith’s giving him another hungry stare.

“Oh.”

Keith doesn’t move from the bed, however. He simply lays back down, curling into the blanket, and Lance leaves him to make preparations for takeoff.

 

**3**

It is a long and very boring ride to Maek.

Lance tries to take a nap, but he’s too anxious and only manages a light doze for about ten minutes. He puts on a pair of headphones and tries to listen to music Pidge uploaded into Blue’s console, but nothing appeals to him. These are all just songs from the bajillion tracks Pidge had brought along with her, not from his personal collection.

Although, Lance does wonder how they could survive out here if Pidge didn’t bring along her backpack full of tech and nerd toys, her little harddrive filled with songs, ebooks, movies, shows, and even a few video games. It takes more than simulated weather to make this Earthling feel a bit closer to home.

“Lance?”

Keith’s awake.

“You hungry?” Lance asks as he turns around. When was the last time Keith ate, seriously? There's some food stored in the kitchenette, mostly food goo in pouches.  

Keith stands beneath the archway to the cockpit, the pieces of his armor removed except for the legs. His black suit clings to his body like a second skin, outlining the muscles, every curve and crevice. He’s gleaming with sweat, and there’s a large tent in his pants. His chest expands with each heavy breath. His eyes aren’t that hungry this time, more distressed.

_Again?_

Lance kinda banked on Keith sleeping the entire trip. Hell, he even planned to just leave him in the Blue Lion while he went out.

Then Keith’s hand goes down to the front of his pants, and Lance is pretty sure he blacked out.

_Christ._

“H- _here?”_ Lance squeaks. “In _Blue?”_

The drawer is a storage space for the lubricant and nothing more than that. All explicit activities with aliens have always occurred outside. Not in here. Blue is _sacred._ Special. 

A rumble rises from Lance’s mind all the way to the rest of him. “Thanks for you permission,” Lance mutters under his breath. Of course, Blue doesn't fucking care, she's a magical mechanical robot lion ship. What would she care of some human rutting? 

But Keith’s Galra ears give him extra hearing or something, because they flick a few times as his eyes widen. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I just… I don’t know how else to make it stop.” He doesn't stop lightly stroking himself.

Lance is stripping off the metal armor before he realizes what he’s doing. If Blue doesn’t mind, then fuck it. But the eager way he's just suddenly ready for Keith on command surprises him. Should he be giving in like this? Just so... easily? 

Then he’s letting Keith push him against the wall, lips on lips, tasting and devouring, hands all over the place, hips flush together. And as Lance eagerly drops to his knees, encouraged by the needy sounds Keith makes, he doesn’t think he will ever get enough of this.

 

**4**

They use all his lube again, goddammit.

He’s going to have to buy a year’s supply at this rate.

 

**5**

“Allura’s gonna kill you, y’know.”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeah. Worth it.”

“And you kinda kidnapped me, so you’re like double dead.”

“If you claim the kidnapping bit, I swear on my grandfather’s grave, I will never touch you again.”

Keith smirks from behind his pouch of space goo, and Lance resists a smile of his own. It’s not much, but at least Keith’s _finally_ eating. He’s gone through like six of those pouches already. And now that he’s more coherent, Keith has opted to look like he normally does, fully human, no trace of Galra heritage to be seen.

Lance kicks back in the pilot seat and chugs the rest of his space juice. His jaw aches a little. “Feelin’ better?” he asks, shoving aside his own minor aches and pains.

Keith’s gaze lowers to the floor, like he’s shy, and takes another sip of pouch goo. They haven’t spoken about this since after the first time when they were in the bath together. And even then, they derailed the conversation to more irrelevant subjects without actually touching on the one they _should_ be talking about.

“It’s getting there,” he finally says. “Every time with you makes it hurt way less.”

“How in the world did you manage before you met me?” Lance’s tone is light, like he’s mostly just joking, but he really is curious.

Keith shrugs. “I’m older? More sexually mature? I dunno, I don't know anything about it, only that it’s never been this bad before. It’s always been more of an inconvenience than anything else, really. An itch I can’t scratch, but just an itch. Just annoying.”

Lance does recall a lot of times when Keith was more pissy than usual, like the rod up his ass has been shoved up even further. Well, now he knows what that’s been all about.

“And then – “

Keith falls silent, and Lance tilts his head.

“Then what?” he prompts.

Keith shakes his head. “Nothing. I… I lost my train of thought.” He sips on his pouch goo with a shrug.

Even with the sex to pass a bit of the time, the ride has been a boring and uneventful one. Keith isn’t much of a pillowtalker, even if they are sitting in the cockpit watching the stars go by and the only pillow is still on the floor by the bed they’ve just made a mess of.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh,” Lance groans, sliding down in his seat until he’s practically on the floor. “Forty-five minutes until we get to Maek. I should’ve figured out how to highjack a wormhole or somethin’.”

Keith makes a choking noise as he nearly spits out his pouch goo. “Wait, we’re going all the way to fucking _Maek?”_

“Uh, yeah, where else would we go shopping?”

“Why are we going shopping?”

“Because we need more space lube, you goddamn horny toad!” Lance snaps with exasperation, throwing his hands up in air and nearly knocking Keith in the head if the Red Paladin didn’t duck. “We can’t keep fucking like rabbits in spring without it! Lube is like sex water, your sex life can’t live without it. _Muy. IM. POR. TAN. TE._ Got it?”

“Sex water,” Keith quotes after a few beats.

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Keith shrugs again. “Allura’s still gonna kill you, though.”

“And you’re going down with me, buddy.”

“Not if I claim kidnapping.”

And here they are back again. Full fucking circle.

 

**6**

The planet of Maek is a giant that looks like a sphere of bronze, terraformed to keep its gravity from crushing its own inhabitants. Located close to the center of the Nlvarlika galaxy, Maek is one of the massive trade centers for the whole universe. All five of its moons are nothing but shopping districts. Many aliens come here to shop, and many more come here to strike a small fortune one way or another.

The moons themselves are nothing but five planet-sized cities. No landscapes that haven’t been built out of Altean steel. Allura’s people helped the Maekans settle this planet long, long, _looooooong_ ago back when Maek only had two moons and no rings. Ever since, Maek eventually evolved into this immense merchant's paradise thanks to its convenient location. The Nlvarlika galaxy itself sits neatly in a kind of galactic crossroads for travelers coming and going throughout the universe. It’s said that the Maekans built the other three moons just to make room for all the shops blossoming like daisies in April.

So naturally, Zarkon just had to have it.

Nlvarlika is prime Galra real estate now. This is why Team Voltron can only make supply runs here separately. One Lion alone is enough to attract attention if her Paladin isn’t careful, even with the cloaking upgrade Pidge installed in all the Lions. All five of them together will bring the entire damn galaxy down on their heads. Even all the fleets on Zarkon’s home base can’t come close to the sheer amount of Galra in an entire galaxy.

So, one by one, they sneak onto one of the moons, buy their shit, and pussyfoot away before anyone notices. The upside is that these shopping centers are filled to bursting with life, people and aliens far too busy with their own business to notice the Paladins among them. If someone does recognize their armor, realize who they are, they are usually lost in the crowd before that person can act. At least, that’s how it’s been these past few dozen trips.

It’s not like there aren’t other trade centers they can take advantage of, plenty that are significantly less risky, but Maek is one of the few that can accommodate for all kinds of lifeforms. Even human. They found clothes that actually fit well, products that won’t fuck with their skin, real food they can eat without having a really bad night in the bathroom.

Again, some sense of normalcy is priority for the Paladins.

As accommodating as the merchandise can be for humans, the moon themselves are not. And L'yrs, the moon the Blue Lion quietly lands on, invisible and unnoticed, is no different. With so many alien species and animals and products packed together in one area, the air itself is toxic to the Paladins. They have no choice but to wear their suits, helmets on all the way, the only protection between Paladin and a horrific, gaseous death. And too many things are involving bodily fluids these days for Lance’s comfort.

Lance and Keith are just two of all the kinds of strange creatures crammed through the narrow streets of L’yrs’s markets. Some are close enough to be considered human with maybe one or two non-human features like tails or horns. A pair of succubus look-alikes with pink scales and barely anything on coo at Lance, and Keith has to yank him away by the arm. Lance gives them his signature finger guns as he’s dragged away, and aliens giggle with mouths full of shining red teeth.

“You’re such a horndog,” Keith grumbles irritably. “We literally just did it in your Lion not even two hours ago.”

Rich, coming from the guy who currently has to spend most of his waking moments banging someone.

“Jealous? You’re grippin’ my arm pretty hard there.” Lance smirks back.

Keith only growls and rolls his eyes.

Other aliens are less humanoid, hulking pulpy masses of wavy tentacles and many eyes, and everyone else everything in between. Some walk, some float, some slither, some move in a way that neither Lance or Keith can possibly describe and makes their vision do funny things if they stare too long. The atmosphere vibrates with voices and grunts and howls and squeaks, alien languages mingling as merchants barter their wares and patrons converse.

Lance has been to plenty of farmers’ markets in his life, his mother huge on supporting the local farms, and even their busiest days cannot compare to this hustle and bustle. If the very air wasn’t so dangerous, he wonders what kind of horrible and wonderful smells are wafting from the stalls filled with strange food and ingredients, delicious and disgusting all mingled together, kind of like back home but way more, um, space-y.

He tries not to wonder how Keith’s hand went from his arm to his palm, how it makes this kinda look like –

No, it doesn’t look like that at all.

Still for a couple heartbeats, Lance is reminded of home all over again, shopping with his siblings, his younger sister, Clara, in particular. So many weekends they spent at the mall, an entire day of just lazy window shopping, not really buying anything unless they absolutely _had_ to have it then and there. Trying to get the number of the cute guy at the pretzel place but too shy to do so. Holding hands with a cute girl who did give him a chance as she steals a sip of his frappuccino and complains about algebra.

Maybe not like a _date-_ date or anything, but Lance imagines taking Keith to the Santa Monica Pier and it's not an unpleasant daydream. There’s a park there and an aquarium and even an arcade, he’d probably really like it, actually remove that rod stuck in his ass and enjoy himself for once. Lance can count on his fingers how many times he’s seen Keith actually, genuinely smile.

Lance’s body warms all over, and he doesn’t exactly mean to give Keith’s hand a slight squeeze.

_“BLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLERRRRRRRRRGHA!”_

They both jump when a sound like one of Hunk’s healthier belches shakes the air, and Keith grips Lance’s hand even tighter. His back curls a little, and even though he looks completely human, Lance imagines a cat all the same. Keith even hisses.

A massive, fluffy goat stands there, penned, probably for sale. Well, it looks like a goat if goats can grow to be the size of a moose. And grow three eyes. Its mouth chews on a long stalk of grass of some kind, and another mouth right on its throat splits into a wide grin with human-like teeth.

“S-sorry ‘bout that, buddy,” Lance says, patting Keith on the shoulder to calm him down. “My friend here gets pretty jumpy. Didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“Startle _it?”_ Keith snaps.

“Don’t be rude,” Lance hisses back, then smiles diplomatically at the beast. “Hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Pretty sure that sign says it’s being auctioned for a rare stew – _ow!”_

Lance’s smile doesn’t waver as he kicks Keith's ankle and waves to the alien goat, ignoring Keith’s glare. A clawed hand reaches from within the long fur covering the beast’s sternum to wave back.

The alien goat may have startled them, but honestly neither Paladin is all that surprised by what they see anymore. The novelty of living out in deep space has long since worn off. Now it’s just life. Weird life. 

“Where are we going?” Keith asks as they weave through the crowded streets, like he’s not the one who just pulled Lance in a random direction. They’re no longer holding hands. Thirty ticks of _that_ was all Lance can handle, and his heart’s still beating a little fast for his liking.

“Only the most important shop in this whole galaxy,” Lance replies with a dramatic flourish of his arms. “The entire universe even! I told you, we need a shitton of lube. And this shop sells all kinds of fun things that are safe-for-humans. And, safe for Galra, I guess.”

“I... I can’t believe you woke me up to drag me to your sex shop,” Keith remarks incredulously, and there is no mistaking the bright blush on his face. It’s enough to make Lance turn a little pink in return.

“You don’t have to come in with me,” Lance replies. “I won’t be in long. Just gonna grab a few things, won’t even need to browse.”

For some reason, Keith has taken Lance’s considerate offer as a challenge instead. “N-no, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It’s whatever.”

“Seriously, Keith, if you’re not comfortable – “

“What part of I’ll be okay did you not get?” Keith snaps and if he blushes any harder, steam will probably literally rise out of his helmet. “I just… I just never been in a sex shop before. Not even on Earth.”

Well.

Well, then.

“Really?” Lance asks. Granted, Keith was still only seventeen when they left Earth, but it’s not like sex shops are hard to walk into if you look old enough. And Spencer’s is a thing.

Keith shrugs defensively. “Never had any reason to.”

Okay, Lance is going to file this away in the mental folder of Things-That-Absolutely-Need-to-Be-Talked-About-Later, but for now they have arrived at their X-rated destination.

On the outside, the shop doesn’t look like much. Light smoke like incense drifts gently from an opening in a colossal rock. Lance sweeps aside the golden beads that hang over the entrance, Keith close behind. It’s a single massive room, like a cave, dimly lit with inky shadows clinging along the wall. They can see just enough to make out all the shelves upon shelves of glass jars filled with exotic goods that no amount of Galra Authorized Currency, or any kind of currency, can buy.

Not for this shop. Not for this kind of shopkeeper.

_Click-click clack._

“What the hell?” Keith looks around, eyes narrowed.

“Oh, yeah, I hear it all the time when I come in. I never really know what it is. I’ve kinda just ignored it.”

“Lance.”

Keith’s voice comes out as a humble little squeak, something that is completely _uncharacteristic_ of him, and his hands snatch Lance’s arm in a death grip.

“Hey – !“

"L-lan - !" 

_“Laaaaaaaaaaaance~”_

A feminine voice coos softly, whispery, drifting along with the incense smoke. There’s more of that strange clicking noise, and then a beautiful ivory face and upper half of a curvy torso emerges from the darkness. Her eyes are a pair of large, round black orbs that shine with no lids for blinking, and her tiny pink mouth curves into a smile. Her face is dainty like a doll’s, even without an actual nose. 

Keith’s grip tightens. Lance is pretty sure he’s going to rip a hole into his suit and that’s gonna be a bad time.

“Laaaaaaance,” the alien drawls again. “My faaaaaaavorite. You’re baaaaack.”

Her voice is like a melody, each pronunciation a song. Her eyes glimmer in Keith’s direction. “And yooou brought a friiiiiend.”

“Heya, beautiful,” Lance greets as cheerfully as if talking to a girlfriend or hitting on another attractive alien. “I wanted to pick up the usual. And, of course, see how my most favorite gal in all the galaxy is doin’. This is Keith. He’s more of a teammate, really.”

“Keeeeeeeeeith.”

She leans in close, and her smiles widens.

It widens from one end of her face to the other. There are teeth. Long, sharp teeth. There is nothing tiny or rosey about that mouth of hers.

Three more pairs of eyes pop open on her face. Smaller than the main two, but there they are. All eight of them.

“Keith, this is Ch’rlete, my favorite shopkeeper,” Lance continues, not deterred in the slightest, unlike Keith who looks terrified out of his fucking mind. “She hooks me up with all my needs.”

“You flaaaaaaaaatter meeeeee,” Ch’rlete purred. “Buuuut Laaaaaaance, you still haaaaaven’t told me what manner of creeeeeeeature you aaare.”

Lance laughs charmingly. “And ruin the mystery? C’mon, babe, y’know you like me better not knowing what I am.”

“Hmmmmm…” She considers. Her two larger fangs poking out from that massive maw of hers actually click together in excitement.

Suddenly, there’s a flash of red light, and Keith’s bayard in his hand.

“Keith, _what the fuck!?”_ Lance grabs him before he can attack, holding his arms behind his back. Keith thrashes wildly, not angry, but panicked.

“Oooooooh, a feeeeeisty ooone.” All eight of Ch’rlete’s eyes gleam with obsidian anticipation and the sounds of many excited clicks dance from the walls.

“He’s… he’s not havin’ a good day,” Lance stammers. “One second, love, let me take him outside and get him some fresh air.”

"Of course, daaaaaarliiiiing." 

Lance manages to drag Keith out the door, and snatches his bayard from him. Another red flash, and the weapon reverts to its original, mostly harmless shape in Lance’s hand. “Keith, what the hell was that?” he demands as he thrusts the bayard back to Keith and it disappears into his thigh. “You can’t just go all psycho on random shopkeepers ‘cause you don’t like how they look.”

“I could see her, Lance,” Keith gasps, bent over his knees, breathing hard in his helmet. “I can see in the dark, and I could _see_ her. Her legs all over the walls. Creepy, so creepy, and her eyes…” Keith trails off and glowers at Lance. _“What the fuck, Lance!?”_

“What?”

“She’s a fucking _spider!_ A ginormous alien  **spider!”** Keith’s eyes are bulging and he grits his teeth and he looks like he’s two ticks away from a full-fledged panic attack. All the color has drained from his face. “Do you not know what fucking spiders do!?”

“Keith, calm down. It’s not a big deal. I’ve been to this shop many times, and she’s been nothin' but good to me.”

“Because you won’t tell her what you are,” Keith manages after a tick or two of calming down. “Is that it? You won’t tell her you’re a human from Earth because you want her to think you’re too unique for her to eat?”

Lance shifts uncomfortably because it’s not like he hasn’t had such suspicions before. “Noooooo,” he draws out, never going to give Keith the satisfaction of being right. “I’m just careful. We’re supposed to be careful about givin’ ourselves away in this galaxy, right? Don’t worry about it. She doesn’t know who I really am, where I’m from, or that I’m a Paladin.”

“That’s _not_ what I’m worried about,” Keith huffs, lips set in a deep frown now that he’s trying not to hyperventilate. “Spiders are just… awful.”

“What, are you like arachnophobic or somethin’?”

_“Yes.”_

“Oh.”

Lance doesn’t expect that at all. In fact, he's never expected Keith to have any kind of phobia. Except like a phobia to having fun and chilling out, or something like that. “You lived in a _desert!_ Aren’t there like spiders _everywhere?”_

“Yes, and you don’t know fear until you’ve experienced a fat camel spider falling on you while you’re in the shower. I was both terrified _and_ violated! I didn’t live out in the desert for _fun,_ Lance, and I was busy looking for _your_ damn Lion.”

“But the Yakhniss Caverns! There were massive spiders everywhere, and you fought them all!”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, but I tend to _fight_ the shit I’m afraid of.”

Yeah, he did just try to attack Ch’rlete head on, didn’t he?

“Sorry, man,” Lance finally says with a sigh. “I had no idea.”

Keith shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, you don’t have to go back in there. I promise I won’t take long. You’ll be okay out here?”

“Dude, I’m not _five.”_

“Yeah, you’ll be fine.”

Sometimes Lance wonders why he bothers. So he refuses to worry about it any further as he goes back inside to finish the shopping.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Lance announces with a beaming smile once he walks back in. “He ate somethin’ that didn’t quite agree with him for lunch.”

“It’s quite alriiiiiight,” Ch’rlete replies. Her face has gone back to only two eyes and tiny mouth, so innocent and harmless looking. “I liiiiiike it when theeeeey have a little fiiiiire in theeeem. I hoooope you bring him back sooooon. Heeeere. The usuuual.”

“Actually, is it alright if I ask for about twenty-eight kelnims more of the lubricant? Y’know what, just gimme the entire box. I’ll pay extra, of course.”

Two more of Ch’rlete’s eyes open as she blinks at him curiously. “Of coooourse.”

Like she would ever pass up a payment from him. Especially  _extra_ payment. 

And… this is gonna be risky but…

While he listens to the clacking moving along the walls, he finally gathers up his courage to ask for just a bit more.

“And do you have anythin' for Galra? Do they ever come here for, like, mating cycle stuff? Or whatever they call it?”

He’s not sure if he’s explained himself properly because Ch’rlete stops moving to consider him. “Is iiiiit for your friiiiend? Keeeeith? I can smeeeellll Galra in hiiis blood.”

Lance nods.

All eight eyes are open now. “What a funnyyyyyy liiiiiiitle creature. So tiiiiiiny for a Gaaalra. But yes, I do haaaave this suppressant yoooou ask for. Theeeey cooome to my shooop aaall the tiiiime for it. Demand is so hiiiiigh these daaays. It will cooooost yoooou.”

“That’s fine. I’m more than willing to pay.”

Her head came forward until she was only a few inches from Lance’s face, and she gives him a fanged smile like he’s just made a promise he’s most likely incapable of keeping.

“Paaaaayment up front, please, _baaaaby_.”

A _click-click-click_ and a long, inky black appendage with creaking joints and fine hairs lowers from another wall to place a large syringe on the counter.

Lance is a bit grateful that Keith lost his mind for a bit and has to wait outside. He’s pretty sure the Red Paladin would lecture his ears off if he saw this. Or try to kill Ch'rlete again. “No peeking,” he reminds Ch’rlete as he takes the syringe and turns away from her. If she sees what he does, she probably won’t be nearly as friendly, and they would have to find a new Blue Paladin.

He unclasps his bracer and rolls the sleeve back just a little, exposing as much skin as he dares to both the toxic environment and Ch’rlete’s hungry gaze from behind him. The flesh there hasn’t quite healed from his last visit some months ago.

Quickly, almost too quickly, dark red red blood fills to the top of the vile, the only kind of currency accepted in this shop.

 

**7**

“Are you okay?”

Keith is at Lance’s side immediately as the Blue Paladin walks out with a huge box. Lance is swaying a bit, his face pale.

“I’m fine,” Lance replies. “Just a bit woozy.” He grins like something straight out of a cheesy sitcom. “But good news is, we have more than enough lube. New toys. Some magazines for me. And some surprises. Ch’rlete’s always giving me extra little gifts for bein’ an awesome customer.”

“I bet she does,” Keith mutters, shooting a distrustful glare at the shop’s entrance.

 

**8**

They barely step back into the Blue Lion when alarms are blaring from the cockpit communication console. “Well, fuck,” Lance groans as he and Keith set the box down in the cargo bay.

“Somebody’s~ in trouble,” Keith remarks quietly and even adds a singsong tone for good measure.

Lance sighs heavily and marches into the cockpit to receive the call.

Hunk’s face appears on the screen. “Oh thank God and Buddha and Oprah Winfrey _you’ve finally picked up!”_ he cries. “It’s _chaos_ back here, man! Where the cheese did you even go!?”

He winces alongside Lance and Keith when Allura’s voice rings through the cockpit loud and clear as if she's right there with them screaming in their ears:

**“YOU TELL THAT SONUVA _JAXKARISNTCH_ THAT I WILL STRING HIM UP BY HIS _YULSCHTRIX_ AND MAKE HIM EAT HIS OWN _BLASNVKA_  AFTER I RIP IT OUT THE MOMENT I LAY EYES ON THE _QUIZNAKRIKIS!”_**

“Lance, please hurry back here!!!” Hunk exclaims in near tears. “Allura’s gone _insane,_ and I can’t understand half of what she’s saying because she’s saying Altean words I’ve never heard before, and I’m pretty sure _quiznakrikis_ is the evolved form of _quiznak_ which means you are in some deep shit, dude, get back here already before – _AAAHH!”_

Hunk dives out of the way as Allura marches into the screen, Shiro and Coran close behind her, trying to calm her down. Pidge is nowhere to be seen, most likely off somewhere recording all this and laughing hysterically.

“Hello, beautiful,” Lance greets as if he’s not in the least bit phased by her rage. His quivering knee says otherwise.

Allura’s face is crimson with fury, her eyes and the marks beneath them glowing bright pink. Her teeth even look sharper. “Do not think for a single tick,” she seethes between sharp breaths, “that you require legs or a voice box to pilot the Blue Lion. If your scrawny _jlixa_ is not back here in a thousand megaticks, so help me King Alfor, I will make you regret _breathing_ wrong. _Do you understand me?_ And if you answer anything more than “yes, Princess” or “no, Princess” right now, you’ll be scraping the void barnacles off the side of the Castle with your teeth, _do you understand me?”_

Keith clamps a hand over Lance’s mouth before he can answer because he’s just not fucking risking it, thankyouverymuch. “Yes, Princess,” he says as Lance struggles against his hold. “We’re on our way right now as fast as we can.”

He shivers when Allura’s glare that can penetrate time and space turns to him. _“And you’re not off the hook, either, Keith!_ The ticker’s ticking. **Get. Moving.”**

If holoscreens can slam when they hang up, well, that’s precisely what it does with that sharp cut off. Keith removes his hand from Lance’s mouth, and they are both breathing heavily.

“Well, that kinda went better than I imagined,” Keith remarks.

“I thought it was kinda hot,” Lance quips, and Keith sighs with heavy exasperation.

“And this is why we can’t have nice things.” His shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait, what am I supposed to do?” Lance exclaims as Keith walks to the bed. “It’s gonna take at least six hours to get back to the Castle!”

“Plenty of time for you to sit there and think about you’ve done,” Keith replies over his shoulder.

“B-but maybe you and I can, uh, I dunno, do somethin' to pass the time?”

Keith stops and peers at Lance. Lance feels his face heat up.

The Red Paladin simply smirks lightly at him. “Good night, Lance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Johnny Air Force" is the name given to those Airmen who are like super devoted to the military and regulations and whatnot. I think the civilian term is "brown-noser". :B


	3. Galra May Act Solitary, But They Actually Require Much Attention and Will Resort to Mischief to Get It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Paladins take a short break to prepare for a diplomatic meeting. 
> 
> There be some smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm in absolute awe and close to tears at the positive reception this fic has gotten so far. Thank you so, so much! I'm sorry I didn't get to where we were before the holidays, but being with the fam makes things way too distracting for me. Also this chapter is a bit of a filler as I try to tie everything together. Still, yall might get a kick out of it. Enjoy!

**1**

They have to scrub the entire ballroom, floor to ceiling and back down again.

By hand.

Normally, cleaning bots are used for such an extensive chore, the ballroom far too big for any one person, or even all of them together to maintain regularly. But for today, Keith and Lance have been ordered to scrub it all until it shined.

“We have Ciyaran diplomats coming in,” Allura explained earlier. “Their planet has been at civil war for the past few centuries, and they just sent a message that they want the Voltron Alliance to mediate between their clans within a stellar week. It is imperative that absolutely nothing is less than perfect when they arrive and _you two - “_

She pauses, grits her teeth, one eyebrow twitching.

“- when I go in that ballroom at the end of the day, I’d better see my reflection with each step I take, understand?”

Even Lance is wise enough to keep his smart-ass mouth from opening.

It's better than having their _blasnvkas_ ripped out.

Whatever _those_ are.

 

**2**

Keith supposes this isn't too bad. Cleaning is a common punishment back at the Galaxy Garrison for minor infractions. Weeds and Seeds program, they called it. 

He pushes the scrubber along the floor, this way and that, and listens as Lance babbles on about his father's family in Cuba.

Lance goes every summer to visit. It sounds like such a charming slice of life: living on the beach, hanging out with his cousins he hasn't seen all year, helping out with his uncle’s resort inn.

“It was my summer job, really, so I got paid and everything,” Lance is saying. “Then I joined the Galaxy Garrison, and didn't have to anymore since I was on leave. But I still helped, anyway, ‘cause it's family, y’know?”

No, not really. But Keith doesn't say so and make the atmosphere all depressing. The closest to a family he’s ever had was the Shiroganes, Takashi and his parents, and it's not like he got to stay even with them for very long.

Keith shakes his head a little and decides to focus on Lance instead, who's still chattering away and doesn't notice Keith's quiet melancholy.

Lance is loud and obnoxiously dramatic and in your face about every little thing.

But when he talks about things like his family, when he's being _real_ for just a moment, his voice takes on this timbre that's so pleasant to listen to. Keith finds himself immersed, hanging onto his every word. He's heard all these stories a thousand times before. He knows all of Lance's immediate family as if he's met them in person.

The story is a tender one. Lance's father, a Cuban man who obtained dual citizenship after joining the U.S. Air Force. Lance's mother, an equine veterinarian with Mexican-Irish heritage. They met in a bar. She apparently threw a drink in his face. Like son, like father. Apples really don't fall far from their trees. But even after a few embarrassing, stumbling first steps, when he got orders overseas a few years later, she agreed to go with him. They spent a long time on the other side of the pond, traveling in a way most people only dreamed of. Lance was born in Germany. Rammstein Air Force Base. Then his father retired when Lance was a toddler, and the whole family moved back to the States to settle in Santa Monica and open a pizza restaurant.

Keith has committed all of this to memory, infused even. Yet, he never tires of hearing it again. So he scrubs the ballroom floor diligently and lets Lance's smooth voice coax him into a zen-like state.

Lance is real like this in bed, too. Walls down, vulnerable, his overconfident facade shattered. It's why Keith can't seem to get enough of him.

And he really shouldn't be thinking about Lance like that right now. At some point, Keith stops cleaning and lets his eyes wander over that lithe body. Lance’s shirt clings to him now, shoulders broader, muscles tighter. He pulls back with the scrubber, and the fabric of his sleeve strains against the tempting swell of his bicep.

Keith swallows.

The itch is back. Not nearly as intense, thanks to Lance's attentive care, but there all the same. Placid, but not quite satisfied just yet.

“Ah, damn, am I talkin’ too much?”

Their gazes meet, and Keith quickly glances away as if Lance might be able to see his naughty thoughts.

“You were starin’ at me, bro,” Lance insists.

“Was I?” Keith asks innocently.

“Uh, yes.”

A grin tugs at Keith's lips as an idea comes over him. “I was just thinking how we can make this punishment of ours much more interesting.”

Lance blinks and then a smirk that matches Keith's own appears. “I’m listenin’. Whatcha got in mind?”

“You take one half of the room and I take the other. Whoever finishes first does whatever he wants to the loser.”

Lance's eyes narrow. “That's so juvenile.”

It's hysterical hearing something like that come out of _Lance's_ mouth. Keith snorts, then lazily stretches forward with his scrubber, giving his hips the slightest of shakes, and does not miss the way Lance's pupils grow fat in response.

“It's fine if you _don't want to…”_

“I-I didn't say that,” Lance interjects, voice cracking. “You're fuckin’ on!”

 

**3**

Keith wins.

They are soaked.

They've probably made a bigger mess than when they started. Water and suds cover the floor because they both got the bright idea flinging water everywhere would clean the floor faster.

The room echoes with Lance's soft panting laced with the occasional moan. Keith kneels behind him, arms wrapped around Lance's body, gloved hands stroking his chest.

Lance is delightfully, thoroughly _drenched._ His nipples push against the soaked fabric of his shirt, as if demanding more attention from Keith's teasing fingers. Lance's chest is ridiculously sensitive, and a bulge strains beneath his jeans.

“Shhhhh, you're so loud,” Keith purrs. He nuzzles Lance's neck, nips gently to make him gasp. Lance's neck is another major erogenous zone of his, perhaps even more so than his chest. Goosebumps rise along the bronze skin beneath his pale cheek.

“It feels so good,” Lance sighs, arching back against Keith. “I… can't help it.”

“Should I gag you, then?” Keith whispers and he feels the shiver course through Lance. He captures their lips together to gag Lance with his tongue, and then pinches down on Lance's nipples to make him cry into his mouth. A string of saliva snaps between them when Lance pulls away for air, his face deeply flushed, chest heaving, eyes black with desire.

He looks amazing. Keith's sure his heart stopped beating.

He knows he's never wanted anything more in his entire life than right now.

Not taking his eyes off Lance, Keith reaches down between Lance's legs to unzip his pants. “Waitwait,” Lance gasps, grabbing Keith's wrist to stop him. “We don't have lube.”

“You and your lube,” Keith says with a soft smile, almost affectionate. “We won't need it.” His hand moves again, stroking Lance and making him moan. “Just relax.”

This is kind of strange, and not in a bad way. Keith is turned on and the heat in him burns like an inferno… but he's absolutely not interested in chasing his own pleasure right now. It's pleasure in itself just watching Lance, listening to his sounds as Keith brings him closer to the edge. It’s pleasure in itself just breathing him in as Lance closes his eyes in pure bliss.

That is all Keith cares about right now. His throat rumbles with a soft purr as he gently nibbles along Lance’s jawline. His only desire is to make his partner feel as good as possible.

And when Lance finally rocks against Keith's hand with a cry, hot release seeping through his fingers, Keith gives his wet lips a tender kiss and feels more than satisfied.

 

**4**

They actually manage to finish scrubbing the ballroom on time.

Although, they both hope Allura doesn't look too closely at the extra-polished spot over in the corner there.

 

**5**

Keith’s feet make little _slop-slop_ noises as he heads back to his room to change out of his soaked clothes. He body feels so light, every nerve thrumming with gentle excitement.

It is the first time Keith has ever considered his heat cycle to not be much of a bad thing.

For the past eight years, cycle after cycle has been nothing short of an extremely depressive and isolating period for him. He’s never been with anyone because of it. The whole experience is just so inhuman, he can only imagine how frightening it must be for people who are even more clueless about the whole thing than he is. Whenever he developed small crushes on people, like a cute girl with glasses in the library or the handsome guy with freckles at the coffee shop, the flame would ignite and remind him why it’s a bad idea to pursue any of these fantasies.

And then Lance comes along.

And changes fucking everything.

Keith supposes he’s grateful for Lance’s desperation to get laid all the time. Now that the heat cycle’s tapering off, Keith can actually start living his life like normal again.

Why shouldn’t he _finally_ get something out of this, maybe even have a little _fun?_

 

**6**

It’s going to be about a week before they can start the mediation between the Ciyaran clans. Until that time, the Paladins are not exactly on vacation or anything, but drills and scouting missions have been set off to the side in order to make the Castle ready. Allura wants nothing less than perfect presentation.

Naturally, Shiro’s still worried about their stalker issue and voices his concerns one night during dinner because apparently this is all they can talk about lately. 

“We actually haven’t seen their signature on the scanners for at least a day now,” Coran assures him. “Perhaps they’ve given up. Not the first time we’ve been tracked by bounty hunters only for them to decide that Voltron is too much for them to handle.”

Shiro narrows his eyes a little, not looking the slightest bit convinced. “I’ll keep an eye on the scanners for anything out of the ordinary,” he volunteers.

“You just want outta cleaning duty,” Lance mutters.

“You mind speaking up a little, Lance?” Shiro retorts with the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t hear you as well in my old age.”

“It wasn’t me, it was Keith.”

“Huh? Wha – _hey!”_

“And why exactly as we cleaning up the Castle for a bunch of aliens, again?” Hunk speaks up.

“Since the people of C’yara Noctyn have been at war for so long, fighting is really all they know,” Allura explains, even though Hunk’s question is rhetorical considering this is the eighth time in two days she’s talked about that they know all her reasons by heart. They all stare at Hunk in silent judgment while Allura babbles on with a few curls falling out of place and a twitch in her eye. “Even during periods of peace between them when my father was still alive and shadowed him during missions, diplomatic meetings with the Ciyarans have always been like, how you Earthlings say, egg walking.”

Pidge clears her throat. “Walking on eggshells, Princess,” she corrects.

Allura flushes slightly. “Ah, yes, thank you. They will not take us seriously if we are anything less than perfect.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay, Princess,” Lance says with a grin and a wink. “You’re beautiful and waaaay more than perfect. The Ciyans – “

“Ciyarans,” Pidge cuts in.

“Yeah, those guys, whatever, they’ll _love_ our princess.”

“Here we go,” Hunk sighs.

“Not as much as _I_ love you, Allura, of course,” Lance continues in a lazy drawl, gazing at Allura through lowered lashes. “You’ll always be my number one girl in all the universe.”

Pidge is vigorously shaking her head at Lance, and Shiro and Allura exchange lightly flushed glances.

“Hoo boy,” Hunk sighs again.

The sharp sound of metal hitting the floor rings through the air as Keith knocks Lance’s space juice off the table.

“Keith, what the hell!?” Lance exclaims, snapping out of his lovesick daze to glare at the Red Paladin sitting next to him.

“Oops,” Keith replies with a shrug. “I guess my arm slipped.”

“It wasn’t anywhere near your arm!”

Keith blinks innocently. “I said ‘oops’.”

“That isn’t any kind of apology whatsoever!”

“Oh my god, these two are _worse,”_ Pidge groans heavily. “And suddenly, I’m inspired to clean my room for once. Later, dorks.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna help Coran rearrange the kitchen some more,” Hunk adds, following close behind Pidge.

Shiro and Allura are suddenly nowhere to be seen. Lance has no idea because he’s actually oblivious about this sort of thing, but it’s a move they’ve perfected for the past few months whenever they’ve wanted a private moment together. Everyone knows it. Except Lance.

Maybe because Lance knows the lost cause his crush on Allura actually is so he’s in a huge state of denial.

And that doesn’t make Keith feel any better. At all. In fact, it makes his stomach twist in sickening knots, and something deeper inside starts to boil.

It’s obvious Lance still harbors unrequited feelings for Allura. He doesn’t look at Keith the way he looks at their princess. Lovesick. Hopeless. Yearning.

Except when he and Keith are in bed together.

Which really rubs Keith the _wrong_ way.

Okay, so they aren’t actually an item or anything. Lance is just helping Keith out through his weird genetic situation. Keith has no reason to be bothered by Lance’s flirting, no claim to Lance whatsoever.

But it bothers Keith, anyway.

 

**7**

They have a movie night that evening after dinner. Mostly to distract Allura because she’s an absolute nervous wreck by this point. And few things are more relaxing than a couple hours watching an Earth movie with her Paladins.

Screams and squishy noises of flesh being torn apart echo through the lounge.

“It’s so fascinating seeing what an Earthling’s insides look like,” Allura remarks, cheerful and relaxed, as she stuffs buttery space popcorn into her mouth in a relaxed way, speaking between very relaxed chews. “You humans are so _pink.”_

Shiro groans from next to her. “It’s just makeup,” he says, maybe more to soothe himself than anything because Allura is utterly transfixed by the horror movie projected on the wall.

“Ohmigod, this is so gross,” Hunk groans, clinging to Lance on the other couch. “Was that really necessary, anyway? Can ghosts really do that?”

“It’s a zombie-ghost, Hunk,” Lance deadpans.

“How does _that_ work?”

“Shush, you two!” Pidge snaps. “You’re the _worst_ to watch movies with, I swear.”

The music swells in the lounge as something bad is about to happen on screen. It’s so dark in here, the lights in the lounge turned low for extra scary effect. Keith shifts closer to Lance, feeling their legs brush together.

“Oh no, honey,” Hunk breathes, releasing Lance to lean forward a bit as the pretty blonde on screen grips her flashlight in both hands while skulking around the inky black basement. “Baby girl, what are you doing? Your boyfriend’s face just got smashed in, _what are you doing?”_

“It wouldn’t be a horror movie if the characters were actually _smart,”_ Pidge points out.

Lance sits completely still on the couch, eyes wide as if he’s unable to look away. Keith can see his pulse jumping beneath the skin of his neck. Lance doesn’t do ghost stories very well. He’s fine with slasher films, but anything involving ghosts can be a bit too much for him. Keith has this sappy thought of wrapping his arms around Lance and protecting him from the ghosts, except, uh, Keith doesn’t do ghosts very well, either. The only reason he’s not scared of this movie is because he’s seen it a million times already, and only Lance has his mostly undivided attention at this moment.

A loud creak makes the character on screen jump. So do Lance and Hunk. Everyone seems to be holding their breath. The thing is lurking in that basement. Ready to pounce. The music drawls on in long notes, tightening the tension in both the movie atmosphere and the one in the room. Everyone from characters to audience are ready to snap at any second.

Keith leans close to Lance’s neck to nuzzle the soft skin before giving him a playful bite.

_“FUCK!”_ Lance shrieks, just as something bursts through the darkness to attack the main character with a clash of loud sound effects and screeching violins. It’s a chain reaction of screams from there.

“QUIZNAK!” Hunk and Coran scream and bowls are flung in the air and space popcorn goes flying in all directions. Shiro buries his face in Allura’s shoulder, and Allura and Pidge are both laughing at their overreactions.

“The scene isn’t _that_ scary, you guys!” Pidge cackles while Allura claps her hands in delight. The sheer amusement she seems to be getting from her Paladin’s reactions are probably not helping her enjoy the movie properly.

“Lance screamed first!” Hunk cries in protest. “Scared the _shit_ out of me!”

“It _is_ scary, Pidge is just inhuman!” Lance snaps defensively, rubbing the side of his neck. He looks at Keith, and his expression is a wonderful mix of indignant, confused, and surprised, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

It takes everything in Keith not to give in to impulse and kiss his surprise away.

 

**8**

Shiro corners Lance when they all had enough of movie night.

Hooo boy. Lance braces himself for the lecture he’s sure is coming. Allura’s already punished him for his little space joyride, but that doesn’t mean Shiro has said his piece on the matter. Shiro’s not a yeller, really. And it’s not like he can give Lance paperwork for his misbehavior all the way out here in deep space.

But disappointing Shiro is punishment in itself. Especially these days.

The other Paladins jokingly call Takashi Shirogane their “dad”, since he’s a few years older than them and already a commissioned officer while they were just cadets and enlisted students, step-promoted to Captain when he was assigned to pilot the Kerberos mission.

“What’s up, Shiro?” Lance asks the older Paladin, hoping he sounds normal and not affected by the serious glint in Shiro’s dark eyes.

“Is there anything between you and Keith?”

That question blindsides Lance, and he can’t speak for a few ticks. Along with his burning face, it’s answer enough for Shiro, who smiles. “I thought so.”

“Well, um, we, I mean, oh boy, we’re kinda, y’know – “

But Shiro holds up his hand to keep Lance quiet. “It’s okay, Lance, you’re not in trouble. I was just curious. The two of you have grown so much closer since we first became Paladins. I admit, you both worried me a lot, especially when it comes to Voltron, yet you always come through when the team needs you. I’m proud of you both.”

His smile falters a little, and Lance realizes that something else is bothering Shiro. The Black Paladin scratches the back of his head. “As far as _that_ goes, um, it’s good that Keith has someone. Even with me, he’s always been a little distant. So I worry about him sometimes. And lately, he’s been more distant than usual. Especially after – ”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Lance interjects with a confident grin. “We all know how Keith can get. Maybe he’s just not ready to talk about whatever’s on his mind yet. He just needs some time, and then he’ll open up again.”

“I hope so.” Shiro gives Lance a small, handsome smile. Lance melts a little inside. It should be illegal for someone to be so sexy. “Anyway, thank you for looking out for him.”

“Y-yeah. No problem.”

 

**9**

Keith and Lance have sex at least several more times during that week. Looking out for Keith and all that, just like Shiro said. Lance has completely lost count by now. Handjobs and quickies in the closets while they continued cleaning and decorating the Castle for this diplomacy thing. Long hours of rutting in the middle of the night cycle.

Keith’s heat cycle is tapering off. Lance can feel it. Keith is far more patient, considerate even. Somehow, that drives Lance even crazier. Their once frenzied fucking has since evolved into something far more… Lance isn’t even sure how to describe it. Not necessarily slower or less intense, but different. A lot different.

“Hey.”

Lance stirs awake when he hears Keith’s voice from next to him after spending yet another night together. 

“You’re crying.”

“I am?” Lance reaches up and sure enough, there are tears rolling down his eyes. Wow. That’s weird. Lance has had plenty of super sad dreams before, this is what happens when you watch too many soap operas during the week. Plenty of dreams where his dream-self is blubbering his poor little dream-heart out, but he wakes up to a dry face. Which is good because tears make his skin all red and blotchy.

Tonight is a whole different story. “I… I don’t usually cry in my sleep,” Lance remarks, feeling the wetness between his fingers. “Weird.”

“Bad dream?” Keith asks softly.

“Bad” is one way to describe it, Lance supposes.

No word seems to be good enough for the complete and utter grief that he felt in that dream. Like his soul has been torn to shreds.

No. Worse than that.

 

Just pain.

 

Pure pain.

 

He’s never hurt like that before. He can’t think of anything that even comes close.

 

Not even when they lost Shiro for a while.

 

“What is it?”

Keith looks so concerned right now even in his Galra form, his eyes a soft golden glow, his face so close, Lance can see the faint outline of slit pupils within them.

To think in his dream, for the second time, he wanted to hurt Keith.

“Lance?”

Lance tries to pull himself out of the emotions still wrapped tight around him. It’s a dream and dreams are not real.

But that _pain_ he feels. That’s _real._ No matter how much he wants to tell himself otherwise.

“Okay, something’s definitely wrong because you are never this silent for more than thirty ticks.”

“You believe in that mystical shit, right?” Lance asks.

Keith tilts his head and flicks an ear, looking completely off-guard. “Um… I believe there’s a lot of shit we can’t explain, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“What about dream shit? Like, uh, premonitions.”

Keith snorts. “You’re having dreams about the future or something?” His smile fades when he realizes that Lance doesn’t look anything less than dead serious. “Quiznak, you’re having dreams about the future.”

“What if – “

Lance tangles with his emotions some more, trying to get them to make sense.

There’s one thought in that entire neuro mess that stands out so much clearer than all the others, and so he chases it.

“What if I’m dreamin’ about the past?”

Keith sits back against the wall. “The past?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what was it about? That might help.”

And here, Lance can’t bring himself to say anything else. He doesn’t want to talk about wanting to hurt Keith. Even if it might help. It’s too painful.

“Was it about us?”

Damn Keith. He can be so oblivious one moment, and in the next, usually when it’s most inconvenient, sharper than the Blazing Sword.

Lance doesn’t answer, and that’s all the answer Keith needs.

“Lance, that’s behind us now. At least, I like to think so. It happened. I got over it. But if you’re not over it, it’s okay, I get it – “

“Trust me, I’m over it,” Lance interjects sharply. “I am. It’s just a dream. A stupid dream. It’s probably nothin’, I don’t want to make a big deal over nothin’.”

He tugs Keith to him, because present Keith, Galra or not, is right here with him, in his bed, in his arms. And that's all Lance wants to focus on right now, even if they've just cleaned up the bed already. 

Lance wonders, not for the first time, if maybe he should tell Keith about what Shiro said to him earlier. But he’s not sure where that particular conversation starter would lead them. Would Keith think he’s butting into things that are not his business? Would that lead them talking about _them,_ and honestly, Lance isn’t sure he’s ready for that, either.

So when Keith stares at him, curious and adorably confused, eyes darkening with anticipation despite himself, of course Lance chickens the fuck out. Instead, he pulls Keith down for an open-mouthed kiss, tongue moving in lazy circles. Their kiss is quick to grow hot and hungry, and when Keith starts moving in Lance again, Lance forgets all those things he wants to say and can’t.

 

**10**

“They’re not coming.”

Allura stands at the helm, tapping her fingers against the crystals. The other Paladins watch her, exchanging glances because they aren’t sure how to calm her down. Allura is furious, the marks beneath her eyes glowing an angry shade of pink. They haven’t seen her this angry in a long time, nothing like how she raged at Lance last week. This fury simmers just beneath the surface of her calm, refined façade, the anger of a monarch who has just been snubbed. They’ve been drifting through the Ciyaran star system for about half a day now, and hours have ticked by since the arranged meeting time with their diplomats.

“Maybe they’re running a little late?” Hunk points out helpfully. “Like maybe their ship broke down, or they ran outta gas, or partied too much last night and overslept?”

“Ciyarans are a proud race and sticklers for doing things correctly,” Coran explains. “Which is why their clans have been at war for so long, considering such things are quite subjective. But no Ciyaran worth their slimy salt would be late for a diplomacy meeting.”

“Which means something went wrong,” Allura adds quietly, then sighs. “I was afraid of this. They may have only agreed to a diplomatic meeting in order to set up the others. Make enemy clans vulnerable while their leaders are away. And now we're caught in the middle.”

“With all due respect, Princess, why are we even bothering?” Keith says, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s down there? If the Ciyarans don’t want our help, they don’t want our help.”

“It’s not so much the Ciyarans I’m worried about but the Galra,” Allura replies. “They’ve been taking advantage of the Ciyaran civil war, partially the reason why the Ciyarans arranged this diplomatic meeting, or at least made it seem like that’s what they wanted. The Galra have been aggravating the clans against each other, and then draining their resources in the crossfire. And it’s our responsibility to deal with the Galra wherever we go, even if the host planets might not be all that welcoming.”

And that’s the one major issue they’ve been dealing with ever since Team Voltron became a thing. Not everyone’s happy whenever the Defenders of the Universe come around to save the day. Sometimes, the locals become so dependent on their enslavement, they don't exactly feel better off after the Galra are taken out with their resources drained and their culture decimated. Not everyone holds a parade in Voltron’s honor after a successful Galra extraction.

It’s Shiro’s turn to sigh. “If there’s an issue, then maybe we should go scout things out.”

“It won’t be easy,” Allura counters, her fury giving away to concern for her Paladins. “We Alteans actually never had the chance to learn much about the Ciyaran people, other than they are proud, private, and warmongering. Even their very planet is hostile with storms that never cease so you may have difficulty navigating through the elements.”

“We should be fine. Anything else we need to know about the Ciyarans?”

Allura taps her chin as she thinks for a moment. “Not much, other than they are an amphibious people. Their scent is quite potent from the mucus they discharge from their bodies.”

“Ugh, gross,” Pidge groans.

“Are we suuuuure they need our help?” Hunk adds with a shudder. “If it's just a scouting thing, like surely there's no need for all of us to be there, right? I don't think Sunshine does well in the rain.”

It's still so cute that Hunk named his Lion “Sunshine”.

“Don't be wimps,” Keith snaps.

“Just because you're into slippery things doesn't mean the rest of us are,” Lance retorts.

“Oh, trust me, you are way more into large, slippery things than I am.”

Silence.

Keith's face flares. Another classic moment of the Red Paladin shooting off at the mouth before actually thinking about what exactly he's saying. And Lance's face turns just as warm.

“Did Keith just make… a dirty joke?” Hunk asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Large and slippery?” Coran repeats, pulling at his moustache in contemplation. “Like a Garnaz Tentacle Beast?”

“Coran, _don't make it worse!”_

Pidge cackles like she's on the verge of going nuts, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Ohmigod, I knew it!” she gasps. “I knew it, I knew it, you two idiots are so obvious!”

“Obvious about what?” Keith asks, even if his reddening face gives away that he knows exactly what they are all talking about.

“It’s alright, everyone, I have already given them my blessing,” Shiro announces, and pats Keith on the shoulder.

“Laaaaaaance,” Keith growls. “What have you been telling people!?”

_“I said nothin’ ‘bout anything!”_ Lance shrieks back. "They're the ones makin' it  _weird!"_

“And you two are just making it even more obvious,” Pidge snarks, grinning from ear to ear. “So gross, I love it.”

Allura clears her throat loudly, forcing everyone to turn their attention to her. “As momentous as this occasion is of two Paladins finally joining together in deepening their bonds – “

“Alluuuraaaa,” Lance groans helplessly, tears in his eyes.

“ – we have a lot of work to do. Now, to your Lions. We're going to deal with these Ciyarans one way or another.”


	4. Galra Are Extremely Protective of Their Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Voltron investigates the strange events of C'yara Noctyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't get to where we were at before Christmas or even New Year's whoops. Family just makes everything so distracting, I really can't write when they are around because they always demand my attention in some other form. However, the outline itself is pretty much complete and I'm pretty confident I can get everything done before the next season drops. 
> 
> Speaking of next season tHAT TRAILER THO. I'm glad I actually managed to edit this today of all days because both my tumblr and twitter have exploded. If the edits are a bit janky, I apologize. I'm very distracted by all the hype rn. But this is fantastic news, because I am completely 100000% motivated for this fic again. 
> 
> As usual, thank you for all your comments and kudos. Enjoy!
> 
> PS - I don't consider this chapter to be too graphic, but it does get a little intense.

**1**

There was only one summer when Lance had to deal with a hurricane while visiting his Cuban family for his annual vacation. Hurricanes and the like are only a cause for concern during the late summer months, and by then he’s already out of dodge, back home in California getting ready for another semester of school to start. Earthquakes, now those are a natural disaster Lance is more familiar with. And wildfires are a constant concern in good ol’ SoCal. Hurricanes, not so much.

Lance was thirteen when the hurricane known as Hurricane What-the-Fuck slammed into the Caribbean Basin from the Atlantic in the middle of July, which is practically unheard of but stranger things have happened in regards to the weather this past century. It was a storm Lance never experienced before in his entire life, and he was more in the way than anything during the chaos of hunkering down and prepping his uncle’s resort inn to minimize damage.

The wind was horrific, tearing through the island from a black sky, screaming as it slammed into the house again and again. Earthquakes and wildfires are scary in their own right, but there’s something exceptionally terrifying sitting right in the path of such raw power with only a shaking building to protect him. Terrifying, and on a deeper level, _exhilarating._

That hurricane was barely more than a drizzle compared to the torrential pandemonium of C’yara Noctyn, sky black with rain, exploding with the occasional clap of thunder that shakes the planet below straight to its core. Perhaps Lance’s habit of plunging the Garrison’s flying simulator into turmoil now comes in handy as the furious gale threatens to knock something as large as Blue all over the place like a helpless plastic bag, every metal plane of her body shaking against the turbulence, yet somehow Lance manages to keep on course.

Blue doesn’t seem to mind, however. She moves faster and feels more powerful under his hands at the controls, as if the storm only enhances their clarity. It’s like Lance can actually sense the rhythm in the rain and the melody in the currents between each drop.

If only Commander Iverson and all those naysaying instructors can see him now.

Well, at least his esteemed class leader is here to witness his greatness.

Team Voltron went down to the stormy skies of C’yara Noctyn in pairs, Lance with Keith and Pidge with Hunk. On a planet made up of mostly water and jungle, the Blue and Green Lions have a tactical advantage here. So, it’s up to Lance and Pidge to scout out any Galra, and then Keith and Hunk are to come in behind for extraction. During all this, Shiro and Allura would seek out the missing diplomats and fill in the pieces of what happened.

Quietly.

“It feels like a trap,” Keith mutters, and Lance is only slightly annoyed that he’s not praising the Blue Paladin for his exceptional flying. He speaks over their private channel so only Lance can hear him. In order to maintain stealth, they must be at radio silence. No using the open channel unless absolutely necessary, only the short-range private channels. Lance isn’t too worried about that. Not the first time Team Voltron has flown into something blind like this. It’s one of those trust things, where you rely on your teammates to know what they are doing and pull through.

Even if this storm does make things a bit sketchy.

“What makes you say that?” Lance inquires, if anything just for the conversation. The biggest thing that sucks about blind runs is the silence. Oh, sure, the storm rattles against Blue, beating them with wind and rain and shake of thunder. Even then, it’s so quiet without the team’s usual quirky banter.

Keith’s holographic image over the com console flickers for a few ticks. Thanks to the storm, the reception is getting worse. Lance hopes their signal will hold out enough to not give out completely. It’ll suck having no one to talk to but Blue.

_Rwwwwwwwrrrrrrr…_

Sorry, Blue.

“Think about it, Lance,” Keith says in that tone that takes Lance all the way back to their Galaxy Garrison days and his esteemed class leader, Cadet Keith Song, is teaching the morning lecture. “These guys demand a diplomatic meeting with our princess, nearly driving her crazy in the process. Then, they don’t show up. And that doesn’t sound suspicious to you?”

“Of course it does, that’s why we’re down here checking things out. What else are we to do?”

“Not waste our time.”

Lance frowns at Keith’s shaky image.

Keith sighs. “Don’t make that face.”

“I can make any face I – “

Keith’s screen suddenly disappears.

“ – want?”

Lance feels a chill at the heavy silence that takes over Blue’s interior from the lost connection.

“Keith?”

His fingers fly over the console as he tries to reestablish their connection. “Keith!?” He gets nothing but static and even that is very brief.

Blue purrs, trying to comfort Lance. The Red Lion is the guardian spirit of Fire – of course, she would be experiencing some difficulty on a mostly water planet. Lance can see in his mind what Blue sees: Red struggling to righten herself and stay on course as Keith navigates them through the storm. Shaky, but okay.

Then Keith’s image finally reappears. “Sorry about that. Got caught in some turbulence. It knocked me over, and I must’ve hit a button.” Then he raises an eyebrow. “You okay over there? You look a little pale.”

Crap, he does?

“What? _I’m_ fine.”

“Uh-huh. And your voice cracked.”

“No, it didn’t! It’s not like I was worried about you suddenly cuttin’ out like that or anything!”

He cannot sound any lamer, can he? Still, the slight pink that blooms over Keith’s face is worth it. “You were worried about me?”

“Nope!”

“You were.”

“Okay, maybe a little, but that’s because there’s no way you would ever get tired of me and just hang up like that.”

“Hmmmmmm.”

“Don’t you even – “

Alarms blare throughout the Blue Lion, echoing from within Keith’s screen, and both Paladins turn their attention to their respective screen indicators. Lance’s heart pulses in his ears. This is it. Game time.

“Galra facility fifteen kilometers to the southeast,” Keith announces.

“And wow, that’s a big one,” Lance adds.

“Don’t think we can handle it?”

“You challengin’ me over there, flyboy?”

Keith shrugs, but there’s a slight curve of a grin and a glint in his eye. “If you wanna take it that way.”

“Oh, you are so on!”

 

**2**

They park their Lions a few kilometers away from the Galra compound’s location and take to their speeders for the rest of the trip. While the chances of Galra detecting them through Pidge’s cloaking shields are very low, even if the Lions are parked on the roof, they decide not to risk it. Who’s to say they aren’t being expected?

The thick canopy of the jungle shields them from the full brunt of the storm, significantly less wind to toss them about as it whistles through the brush. But even with their visors in night vision mode, the downpour and the sheer darkness from such condensed jungle are still limiting. Driving at such a slow speed is absolutely painstaking, but when Lance isn’t momentarily blinded by lightning flashing bright as direct sunlight, he’s avoiding driving straight into a tree or, worse, sinking into one of the bogs. The speeder might hover a foot off the ground on its little ball thing, but it’s not completely immune to gravity.

Another speeder soon joins him when Lance approaches the Galra compound from within the stormy shadows, its body flashing bright crimson in the lightning.

Ah, good. Keith had made it after all.

“Heya, slowpoke,” Lance greets into the comm in helmet. “About time you showed up.”

There’s still some static, but the irritation in the response comes through clear enough, _“Seriously, Lance? Not now.”_

“Heh. You’re just sore ‘cause I beat ya.”

_“No, it just sucks out here. It’s raining and I hate it and Red hates it, so let’s just do what we came here to do and then get the fuck outta here already.”_

“You hate rain? You really do suck.”

There’s an annoyed growl in his ear.

The Galra compound is difficult to miss, a huge cluster of buildings huddled together like a herd trying to shield itself from the storm. Ominous. Cold. Keith asks if Lance can see any Galra, but there’s no one. No life to be seen anywhere, Galra or otherwise.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Keith mutters.

The compound is completely empty. No Galra Sentries guarding the place. No Galra soldiers marching around doing soldier things. No vehicles. No foot traffic. It’s a ghost town out here.

Something definitely isn’t right at all.

“They all must be holed up inside,” Lance replies. Which makes their job of sneaking into the compound and rendering the Galra useless all that much harder. This is really gonna suck if the Galra are all crammed together inside like canned sardines. Keith might be fine, but Lance and close-quarters combat do not mix well, especially if there’s no place for him to get a proper vantage point.

 _“You got a plan?”_ Keith asks because, oh right, Lance is the strategist here whenever they pair up.

“Uhhhhh… thinking up one.”

_“Lance!”_

“I’m more of an improvise kind of guy, okay? Think better on the fly, y’know?”

_“A bullshitter, you mean.”_

Most likely Lance is just projecting, but he’d likes to think he hears a smile in Keith’s voice despite his obvious exasperation.

The lack of movement gives the pair all the more reason to be cautious. Nothing is more suspicious than something that looks non-threatening, a hard lesson they’ve had to learn several times in the past. Parking their speeders as close to one of the buildings as they dare, the two Paladins cling against the shadows on the wall as they sneak toward an insignificant looking side door. It feels like they are the only two living beings out here, yet both wince when the surprisingly unlocked door opens with a deafening creak.

The next surprise to greet them as they slip quietly inside is the _smell._

 _Oh! Oh God!_ Lance gags and the lower half of his helmet cannot cover the rest of his face fast enough. Fuck, for a few seconds, the disgusting air is trapped inside, a stench like a wet dog had rolled around in its own shit on a scorching summer afternoon multiplied by a factor of a few hundred. Lance groans as he forces back the bile because puking in his helmet is just _not_ an option.

Keith seems to have it _worse._ The Red Paladin has slumped against the wall. His helmet is also sealed, but he’s breathing fast like he can’t get enough of the air filtering through his suit. Lance kneels next to him, trying to calm him down. “Keith, dude, you’re going to hyperventilate if you keep that up. It’s okay. Just try to take deeper breaths.”

“It… smells,” Keith whines, actually _whines._ Lance doesn’t think he’s ever heard Keith distressed enough to the point of whining before. “It smells so bad.”

“I know, dude. I smell it, too.

Like something’s rotten. Decaying.

Like death.

The smell of death is something Lance never thought he would become accustomed to. Fighting in deep space with giant robots sounds so fantastical, unreal, not anything remotely close to real life. He and his siblings used to nerd out on space movies all the time, spent hours discussing plots and character interactions, theorizing what’s in store for the franchise. Lance loves sci-fi. _Loves it._

And fighting in giant robots shaped like cats! Okay, “lions” but whatever. _Cats._ Big robot cats. Like, how can any of this be anything but a dream? Easy to dismiss it all as such in the beginning.

A dream that’s quick to dissolve into a nightmare.

It’s not always robotic Sentries they fight. Sometimes a Paladin bayard pierces through Galra armor into the warm, living flesh beneath. Lance now knows what it means to watch the life leave someone’s eyes. The shots fired from Lance’s rifle bayard aren’t always the cleanest. So much stuff pours easily out of the body if given the chance.

And the _smell._ It’s a smell that _digs_ into you, forces you to _taste_ it, a thick, organic reminder that none of this a dream. No matter how fantastical the elements, war is war. And this is the reality of what he signed up for back on Earth when he became a cadet. In space or not.

This smell is something different. Beyond a carnage he can describe. And if it’s this bad to him, he can’t imagine what Keith is going through with his sensitive Galra nose. Even when he looks human, his senses are heightened on an inhuman level.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Keith groans, and he sounds like he’s struggling not to puke, voice gargled and tight.

It’s pretty damn bad when Mr. Shoot-First-Ask-Questions-Later himself wants to leave. The guy fought a cave full of giant space spiders once, and that’s a phobia of his, apparently. Keith is the Paladin that specializes in his instincts, and his instincts are usually to fight everything he sees. _Usually._ But never to run away from something. Not until now.

“We’ll be fine,” Lance assures him, optimistic as always. One of them has to be. “If we stick together, we can take on anythin’. We’re like the dynamic duo and shit.”

“Dynamic duo, huh?” Keith replies. “Then you’re the sidekick.”

“Uh, as if!”

Their banter is cut short when a heavy sound echoes in the air. Like something had fallen hard onto the metallic floor. The two Paladins glance at each other, and then Keith manages to get back to his feet, knees shaking a little, but otherwise steady. He goes first when he’s able to walk without his legs threatening to give, bayard transforming into a blade. Lance follows close behind with his rifle at the ready.

The long halls seem to wind around themselves in circles. Like everything Galra, the atmosphere has an eerie, purple glow that amplifies the dark stains dripping down the walls. There’s a humid heat Lance can feel even through his suit, and the already drenched fabric starts to stick even tighter to him, and now he’s all sticky from both rain and his own sweat. Even the floor is a gross combination of sticky and slippery. He can only imagine the smell must be worse the deeper they go.

They poke their heads into a few rooms, some small and cramped like tiny offices, others wide with large data consoles stretching from floor to ceiling. These rooms have more stains than out in the halls, and dark piles of something litter the floor and drape over some of the furniture, pieces falling in sickening splats when gravity finally pulls them down to the floor.

“I, um, think we found the Galra,” Keith says after a hard swallow. There’s no mistaking the magenta marks etched into that silver armor gleaming from within those pulpy mounds.

The temptation to puke in his helmet is getting stronger, and Lance quickly turns back into the hall. “Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” he groans. He pulls up a hologrid over his wrist, zooming in on the BLIP readings in this compound. The only Galra readings are from their tech. But otherwise, no living Galra to be seen. There’s no point in going any further than they had to. Whatever that sound was –

A new thermal signature suddenly appears on the grid, coming toward them as they both freeze in the hall. Then they hear it.

It’s a thick, wet sound, _schlop-schlop-schlop,_ like something goopy slithering along the floor.

Lance watches as the horror grows on Keith’s face, who has diverted his attention to something _behind_ the Blue Paladin. Before Lance can turn around and face the obvious monster looming there –

_Snap!_

It all happens so fast. Yet. Lance can register it all in slow motion.

First, Lance is in the air, with something heavy, thick, slimey, whipped tight around his abdomen, squeezing to the point where he’s sure he’s going to burst. He can’t even draw in the air to scream for Keith when he’s yanked backward.

Then he falls to the floor when the tension snaps, hitting hard against metal, pain shooting through his limbs. A garbled screams pierces the air, and something hot and wet showers down on him. Instincts kicking in, Lance rolls away, grabs his rifle and spins upward to aim for whatever grabbed him. He doesn’t shoot because Keith is already engaged with the creature, and quite obviously winning. Most of the alien’s frog-like tongue lies on the floor, while the rest of it sprays brownish liquid in all directions from the alien’s massive, toothless maw.

It looks like a slug. A giant, bloated, ten-feet tall slug. No eyes to speak of, silvery liquid squirting from its yellowish skin, round limbs with tiny hands flailing. And suddenly, it doesn’t have its arms anymore, another scream reverberating throughout the massive room as Keith rips them off in a shower of more dark liquid and a disgusting squelch that makes Lance’s throat throb in protest.

And then Keith tears _into_ the creature.

Quite literally. With both bayard blade and bare hand.

Lance can only sit there in transfixed horror, unable to move or look away or think as he watches his friend, his partner, his teammate rip another living thing to pieces.

“Keith, stop!” he finally forces out. “Stop, you killed it already!”

Lance is actually surprised that Keith stops. The alien he’s killed is no longer recognizable, just a pile of mush and innards. Thick globs of its brown insides drip from Keith as he returns to Lance’s side.

Lance doesn’t mean to recoil, but he does and not just because his partner is covered in filth right now. Keith may have always been a rather kickass guy, but this is on a whole new level of violence that Lance never thought the Red Paladin could be capable of. He doesn’t know how to process it right now.

It doesn’t seem like Keith has quite registered what he’s just done, as he stares intently at Lance. “Are you okay?” he asks heavily, and begins ripping off the part of the tongue Lance just now realizes is still wrapped tight around him.

“Y-yeah,” Lance answers, and his voice shakes a little with fear even though he tries to keep it as steady as possible. Fear of what, though, he hasn’t quite decided yet. The alien that’s just a little too gross for comfort? The fact that he just now almost became dinner? Or almost became the unfortunate protagonist in a tentacle cartoon?

Or the fact that someone he knows just killed another sentient being without any ounce of mercy?

“Yeah, I’m fine. He’s not, though. What the fuck was that?”

“I think it’s a Ciyaran.”

“No, not him! _You._ Dude, you went crazy.”

Keith glances over his shoulder at the mess he’s made, and – Lance nearly loses it – he shrugs. “It tried to hurt you.”

“A bajillion things have tried to hurt me for the past few years now, and you’ve never lost your mind like _that,”_ Lance retorts.

“I only did what I had to.”

“I realize! I just… it seemed really excessive. Even for you.”

This time Keith does look apologetic. “I’m not sure what happened. I just kinda snapped.”

They sit in silence for a long tick.

“Well, thanks anyway. For saving me. That could’ve been a really _bad end._ ”

Lance shivers as he looks back at the pile of alien or what’s left of it. He’s seen plenty of weird alien regenerating abilities in his Paladin career, but this one looks hella dead. He wills his stomach to stay steady.

It’s not ever something you can get used to.

 

**3**

“Holy crow, what is that _smell?”_

In another compound on the northern side of the continent, Hunk and Pidge are running into similar issues. Empty jungle, no living Galra to be seen, only they’ve so far managed to avoid the Ciyarans they run into. Luckily, the slug-people make loud noises as they slide along the floor over their own dripping mucus, so the pair scour the entire main building with little incident. Even few Ciyarans are guarding the place, and don’t seem to be taking it all that seriously, either.

Pidge ignores Hunk as she pokes around data consoles looking for, well, anything that can tell them what happened here, really. Report logs, security footage, things of that nature. But the Galra have been here a _long_ time, and there’s so much data to download. And she knows that she doesn’t have time to sift through everything for specific files. So she watches with no small amount of patience as upload bar on the holoscreen above her wrist fills at a painstaking tick by tick pace.

The smell is pretty bad if you don’t have your helmet sealed. With the building covered in black stains and Galra bodies lying around, you don’t have to be a genius with a high school diploma at only fourteen to conclude what’s happened here. She only needs the files for specific details.

“Keith and Lance are finally moving again,” Hunk announces softly as he monitors the BLIP scanner.

“See? Told ya they’d be okay,” Pidge replies, flashing Hunk a small smile. “You worry too much.”

“I know, I know, I can’t help it.” Hunk sighs deeply, watching the red and blue dot slowly make their way across the holographic grid.

Pidge’s smile quickly disappears in a look of concern. She’s never been much of a people person, often too caught up in her own shit and personal projects to really pay attention to the living. Becoming a part of Team Voltron changed that drastically. You kinda have to be open when your job is to let four other people grub around in your head for saving the universe purposes. And as a result, she learned how to read her own teammates better, whether she likes it or not.

“You’re worried about something else, aren’t you?”

Small talk is better than watching this bar fill, anyway.

“You think Keith’s been kinda distant these days?” Hunk asks.

They both know Keith isn’t exactly a social butterfly, either, but Pidge understands what Hunk means. Keith’s always hanging around whenever Hunk works on new projects, hanging onto his every word even if he barely understands all the technical jargon. He would have been the first to try out Hunk’s new video game even before Lance could get a hold of it. Hunk’s often said that he works best when Keith’s around, the Red Paladin’s intrigue and constant questioning actually helps him focus. Then they both fall down that rabbit hole of weird science and conspiracy theories, and then Pidge would have no choice but to weigh in her own two cents on the matter.

“I’ve noticed,” Pidge replies. But it’s not like Keith would say anything if something happened. They both know that, too.

“I think Lance might be involved,” Hunk continues. “He’s been kinda distant, too.”

“Maybe the two of them are dating.”

Pidge mostly means this as a joke, though with that pair’s constant banter and near-flirtatious bickering, she would not be surprised.

Hunk vigorously shakes his head. “No, no way, man. Lance would’ve told me. Like immediately.”

“Maybe they wanna keep it to themselves?” Pidge offers. “That sort of thing is kinda private and all.” Shiro and Allura are an item, too, but they also never give away anything about the specifics of their relationship. Again, it’s all the little things Pidge has been able to pick up on as a result of learning how to read the subtle, individual gestures of her teammates. That and Hunk is a huge gossip.

But Hunk continues to shake his head. “Lance doesn’t ever keep that sort of thing to himself,” he insists, and now that he’s said it out loud, Pidge agrees. She’s known more things about Lance’s love life, both real and imagined, that she _ever_ wants to know. Pidge has always been an advocator of personal privacy, and too-much-info Lance and gossip-hound Hunk test her resolve daily. If Keith and Lance really did take their bonding moments to the next level, Lance would scream about it from the top of the Castle observatory or something. They’ll never hear the end of it.

Lance with hookups is obnoxious enough. Lance with a boyfriend would be downright insufferable.

“I think they’re involved in something bad!” Hunk exclaims, and Pidge frantically waves her free hand to shush him.

“Hunk!”

“Sorry, sorry, oh man, that’s the only explanation. My guts, Pidge, my guts are telling me that they are in over their heads about something, I just can’t figure out what. And they won’t tell the rest of us for some reason.”

“Over what exactly?” Pidge points out. “We are with them _all the time._ There’s no privacy even in the Castle. _Allura_ would know. If anything, because the mice would have told her.”

“Maybe Allura does know, and she’s also not telling us.”

Pidge frowns, and now worry is starting to grow within her, too. “That doesn’t sound like Allura. Like at all.”

“You’re right, you’re right, she might not always tell us _everything,_ but she would say something if it’s that bad, you’re right. I just… _agh.”_ Hunk runs his fingers through his dark brown hair, jostling his headband around a little. “I’ve been having this awful feeling for the past week now, and it’s not been going away, and I kinda have no idea what to do with this.”

“Have you tried talking to Lance about it?”

“Like I said, he’s been distant, and I haven’t been able to get him alone about it.”

“Hm.”

Pidge considers some more. It’s very possible that whatever’s going on between Lance and Keith, the two of them want it private between them. It’s not too far-fetched to think Keith can put on a lid on Lance’s blabbermouth, and Lance’s detached behavior has more to do with him limiting the temptation to spill the beans. At least, Pidge really, really hopes that this is the case. That Hunk is just overreacting because Lance has been spending more time with his new significant other than his best friend lately.

Then again, Hunk’s gut feelings are _never_ wrong. Pidge holds fast to the opinion that psychic powers are just a bunch of baloney to exploit desperate people, but she would be the first to admit that there’s something _uncanny_ about Hunk’s intuition, almost enough to make her a believer. If Hunk’s guts are speaking, you stop and you listen good.

Pidge is about to ask what Hunk thinks they should do about the situation, when a beep from her holoscreen indicates that the download has completed. “Alright, here we go,” she whispers, licking a salty bead of sweat from her upper lip. She uploads the data into her laptop, a dramatically faster process, and in only a few ticks, she’s running a search.

So many log files in just the security report folders. Apparently, bureaucracy is universal for the Galra leave a tight paper trail on everything they have ever done in the past ten thousand years. Well, at least the Galra have only been on C’yara Noctyn for the past two centuries, otherwise the data Pidge would have to sort through would be insurmountable.

There’s really nothing of note, at first. Pidge has set the search for keywords such as “suspicious” or “danger” or “breach”, things of that nature that normally would not be put in security reports if things were hunky-dory. Then there’s a small beep when the computer finds something, dated a few months ago, however long that really is on this planet. Pidge quickly skims over the logs, catching the more interesting sounding paragraphs amidst all the mundane details.

 

 

> _“Security Log 1.32.0-28._
> 
> _It has been two days since Myzkik has reported for duty. Squadmates report that he escorted two of our hosts to one of the cargo docks for a shipment, and never heard from again. Logistics reports that they have not received any Ciyaran visitation or cargo removal in the past secondary lunar cycle. Given the suspicious nature of this case, it is possible Myzkik may have defected from the Galra army. I have sent a small squad of Sentries in search of Myzkik and alerted the other the other compounds to keep a sharp watch for any Galra soldier wandering outside of their AOR.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Security Log 1.32.0-29._
> 
> _The Sentries show no sign of finding Myzkik, anywhere. Security supervision do not report seeing anything suspicious, however, Galax from the southeastern quarter does report their own foot soldiers failing to report to duty. It is a strange occurrence, however Commander Teric does not feel the need to push this up the chain. The planet’s never ending storms do put some of our soldiers out of sorts. New disciplinary measures will be taken to remind our soldiers that the glory of the Galra Empire is more than their own personal doubts and fears.”_

 

Life as usual seems to go on for a few entries and then:

 

 

> _“Security Log 1.32-0-36._
> 
> _The body of Myzkik has been found, at least what is left of it. Squad reports that the armor tags identify Myzkik, but he is nothing more than skin and bones. All his organs and muscles are missing.”_

 

“Holy quiznaking shit,” Hunk breathes, reading over Pidge’s shoulder.

 

 

> _“It is clear now that Myzkik had made the unfortunate misjudgment of wandering into the jungle without a buddy. The local fauna are quite hostile, and Myzkik is nothing more than this planet’s latest victim. I had the body sent to Mortuary Affairs for proper disposal. Their full report is attached to this log. Under these circumstances, new security measures must be taken which I will now propose in full detail.”_

 

There are more like that as Pidge scrolls on. More and more frequent. Foot soldiers disappearing one by one. Then squad by squad. Other compounds forwarding their reports of the same security issues. The security supervisor starts to sound less and less formal and more panicked.

The final log looks to be dated just yesterday when converted to a 24-hour cycle.

 

 

> _“Those bastard Ciyarans are killing us, feeding off of us little by little. We have barricaded ourselves in Building NW-9, but it may only be putting off the inevitable. The hosts have our weapons, destroyed our Sentries, and consumed our foot soldiers. There are so many of them, and only a handful of us left. Two of my men have already taken their own lives than face the horrific death by a Ciyaran’s disgusting tongue. I, however, will continue to fight for the glory of Galran until my last breath._
> 
> _Vrepit Sa.”_

 

Pidge and Hunk both sit back and release the breath they have been holding. “What the quiznak,” Hunk whispers.

A noise. They freeze.

_Schlop-schlop-schlop._

The tell-tale sliding noise of a Ciyaran greets them as the alien slides into the room. Hunk pales and makes the slightest whimper, but remains silent. Pidge slowly peers around the corner of the data console they crouch behind. Then she nods for Hunk to follow her. So long as they remain absolutely quiet, they can get around the Ciyaran and out the door without attracting its attention.

The Ciyaran rummages through a weapon cabinet, and the two Paladins hug the far wall behind it as they inch their way to the door. It’s hard to stay silent, especially when the ooze that spills from within the Ciyaran’s skin makes them both utterly disgusted. Even Pidge struggles. Slugs are the worst, and slug-people significantly more so.

_Squish._

They both go completely still. So does the Ciyaran. The sound of Hunk stepping in something reverberates like dynamite in this silence.

Hunk stepped into a mushy pile of gunk. Flesh and some bones and pieces of Galra armor. Looks like they found the security supervisor.

The Ciyaran barely turns around when Pidge’s bayard grapple hooks around its thick neck. Bubbly, garbled noises seep from its throat as it flails around, and the glowing green rope only tightens and tightens as she pulls and pulls. Hunk snaps out of his daze and grabs the rope and pulls with her. _Gurgle, gurgle, glaaaaargh,_ goes the alien slug as it grasps with tiny fingers to no avail. Then Hunk yanks on the rope with that grizzly bear strength of his, and the alien stops flailing and slowly _sinks_ down into itself as brown ooze flows from its gaping maw.

“You okay?” Hunk asks.

“Yeah,” Pidge replies just as breathlessly, body shaking. “You?”

“Not really.”

Pidge gives Hunk a moment to puke in a corner, resisting the urge to do the same.

 

**4**

Allura’s surprisingly calm.

Truth be told, it’s actually not that surprising, Allura has an incredible ability to maintain control even under the most extreme pressure. She may not actually have control, but damn if she doesn’t look it, and it’s one of those little things that drew Shiro to her to begin with. He only hopes he can remain as steadfast as she does. They have been through so much together, evil aliens, imprisonment, hostile planets, but the slug-people of C’yara Noctyn are quite different from what they normally run into. Their hosts are far from the first to reject the Voltron Alliance to handle the Galra themselves, but there’s something about them Shiro can’t quite put his finger on, just his instincts telling him to be extremely wary.

Ciyarans have them surrounded, directing them with weapons made of Galra tech to a large stone palace. Shiro lowers the visor of his helmet to seal off the outside air; the smell is almost too much to take and brings back a whole slew of memories he’d rather not deal with at the moment. Allura doesn’t seem to be too bothered, but then again, she has significantly more experience with these situations than he will ever obtain in his lifetime, and so he stands at the ready like a silent bodyguard as their hostile hosts escort them up the stairs and into a massive throne room. The stone beneath their feet is slippery and covered with moss. It kind of takes Shiro back to when he found the Green Lion with Pidge, and then he hopes the other Paladins are doing okay. Allura and Shiro getting captured is expected, and even part of the plan. The other four, on the other hand, need to stay in the clear.

They’ve encountered many different species of aliens over the years; Shiro, especially, during his time as a Galra prisoner. They’ve seen so many from the unimaginably beautiful to the weird and strange. They’ve been places to they’ve longed to stay forever, and places they couldn’t leave any faster. The Paladin Code demands that they maintain order for the greater good, but Shiro wonders if maybe Keith had a point and they just shouldn’t bother with this planet whatsoever.

There have been no Galra since the Black Lion landed on the surface. While the BLIP scanners picked up the signatures of Galra technology, living Galra can’t seem to be found. Not even a single Sentry. It’s possible the Galra could be situated somewhere else on the planet their scanners hadn’t quite covered, but Shiro’s mind has already been filled with all kinds of doubts ever since the Ciyaran diplomats skipped their appointment with the Princess.

Something is very, very wrong here.

“Princess Allura,” a deep voice drawls with a watery garble in Altean. A massive Ciyaran slithers its way toward them, and Shiro wonders not for the first time how it can even see them without eyes. He shivers, and not because of his suit soaked with rain, either. “All this time, and you are still alive. Fortuitous, indeed.”

“Grand Npu,” Allura replies, and even smiles for diplomatic effect. “These were not the circumstances I was expecting for our meeting. If you wanted to meet on-planet, I would have been more than happy to comply.”

The Grand Npu’s wide mouth stretches even wider with a grin that Shiro doesn’t consider good. “We all must practice caution during such dark times, my dear Princess. When we scanned your Castle upon your arrival to our orbit – a security measure, of course – we did not realize you would be harboring one of the enemy amongst your own.”

“What?”

Shiro starts, despite himself, and his gaze immediately snaps to his Galra prosthetic. Is the tech embedded in his cybernetic arm to blame for this?

Allura says nothing, and doesn’t look like she’s even blinked.

“Upon seeing your blatant breach of our trust, we realized we could not risk a meeting with you. Who is to say that during your quite notable absence, you have not joined with the enemy?”

“I’m not – “ Shiro begins, but Allura holds up her hand to silence him.

The Grand Npu shudders, and silver liquid oozes from its body. “Please understand we bear no ill-will towards you or your people, Princess. This war is of little consequence to us. Grands Dklu and Pkrio thought they were doing our people a favor by bringing in the Voltron Alliance to deal with our little Galra infestation, but the way I see it, we have never needed your Alliance and we never will.”

It waves its arm-like appendage, and both Shiro and Allura take a step back when two Ciyaran guards toss a lump of flesh and metal on the ground by their feet. A Galra soldier, or what is left of the poor creature – skin, bones, and armor.

“The Galra have sustained my clan for generations, Princess Allura,” the Grand Npu explains, “and we have become so much stronger for it. We will end this civil war ourselves with my clan the victor.”

It grabs the pile of Galra flesh and tosses the corpse aside where several Ciyarans immediately descend on it like a pack of starving dogs eating the scraps so generously given to them. Shiro’s stomach churns at the greedy slurping sounds, and even Allura looks slightly paler than normal.

“Grand Npu,” a Ciyaran garbles as it slithers up to the clan leader. “Report from the southeast outpost. Many of our hunting party has been slain. It’s a massacre down there. And there is a disturbance in the northwest sector. Jlikra and his hunting party are also not responding.”

Now Allura pales considerably.

Grand Npu turns to them, jaw unhinging in a massive smile, saying all too sweetly, _“Princess.”_

Shiro’s arm glows with power before he can register what exactly just happened. With the element of surprise on his side, his hand disarms the guards around them before they can react. By his side, a white staff has appeared in Allura’s hands, ends pulsing with blue, deadly power. The ones closest to her shake from the electricity, collapsing in oozing, twitching mounds by her feet.

Shiro grabs Allura by the waist as the Ciyaran guards start to recover, and his jetpack carries them quickly back down the stairs and into the jungle storm.

 _“Paladins!”_ Allura shouts into her comm over the downpour as they hit the ground running to take cover in the brush from Galra weapons firing at them, boots churning mud. “To your Lions now! The mission is a failure. We will be jumping from orbit in three macro-ticks!”

 

**5**

It’s not like they fooled themselves into thinking there were no more Ciyarans in the building after the first five they encountered and took down, but a large hunting party gathered at the other side of the compound was an unexpected surprise. Keith and Lance would have snuck back the way they came and return to their speeders, but too late, the party noticed them, and at least a dozen of these slug-people came at the two Paladins before they could turn around.

Keith now stands in the center of the massacre, his suit nearly all black at this point from the sheer amount of Ciyaran bodily fluids he has bathed in, hands on dark knees as he breathes heavily from exertion. Fatigue gnaws at his muscles as the adrenaline dissolves away, and he doesn’t think he has it in him to go through something like that again.

Protecting Lance isn’t anything out of the ordinary. As a long-range combatant, Lance is high priority on the field. And every week, the Paladins go through dozens of training exercises that focus on team protection.

But with Lance, for Keith, it’s just _different._

It’s like something overcomes Keith, makes him forget everything else, makes him forget even the mission sometimes. He’s always been an act-without-thinking-too-much-about-it kind of guy, but with Lance around, that particular behavioral trait amplifies. And every mission, it seems to get worse.

He’d fight the entire universe to make sure his team was safe, there’s no fucking doubt about that. But with Lance, Keith feels like he _actually can fight the entire universe._ It’s a certainty that he doesn’t even question.

And he’d do it again. Over and over. Whatever it takes to keep Lance safe.

That’s a kind of scary feeling.

He snaps out of his thoughts when Lance clears his throat. “Th-thought we were goners for sure for a moment there,” the Blue Paladin remarks with a wry grin, trying to find humor even in the face of the slaughter they are responsible for.

“I wouldn’t have let them touch you,” Keith replies, his somber tone wiping the already weak smile from Lance’s face. He knows Lance is trying to recover from the tension, but he says it anyway. It feels needed to be said.

It’s always a little satisfying rendering Lance completely speechless, who can only reply with a nervous “u-ummmmm…” and his cheeks turning red beneath the blue visor of his helmet. “I-I-I know, dude.”

 _“Paladins!”_ Allura’s voice suddenly rings from within their helmets, making them both jump in surprise. She doesn’t sound panicked because Allura _never_ panics on the field, but the unquestionable authority in her tone is clear. _“To your Lions now! The mission is a failure. We will be jumping from orbit in three macro-ticks!”_

The pair waste no time making their way back through the building, careful enough not to slip over the blood-soaked floor of decaying Galra flesh and fresh ooze from Ciyaran bodies. The horrific storm that continues to rage outside is welcoming compared to the empty death within that building. They don’t even bother being quiet as they start up their speeders and race out of there. If they attract attention, well, they’ll just continue fighting their way through like they have been. It’s not like they haven’t already killed twenty of these bastards.

 _“You guys alright?”_ Hunk’s voice speaks up now that the radio silence has ended. There’s slight static in his words from coming so far away.

“We’re fine,” Lance assures him. “We’re on our way back now.”

 _“What happened out there?”_ Shiro demands. _“The Ciyarans said something about a hunting party of theirs has been killed?”_

Lance doesn’t answer.

_“Lance?”_

“We did run into a hunting party, yeah,” Keith explains, glancing back to Lance just in time to see the Blue Paladin speeder veer off deeper into the jungle instead of toward the Blue Lion.

“Oh, fuck.”

 _“What?”_ Hunk exclaims. _“Oh fuck, what? What does ‘oh fuck’ mean? Keith, what’s going on!?”_

“Nothing, just a detour,” Keith answers as he turns his speeder to chase after Lance, and hisses through their private channel, “Lance, what the fuck are you doing? Where are you going!?”

 _“I picked up some Galra readings,”_ Lance says. _“Living Galra.”_

“And your point? We’re done here!”

_“No, we’re not. We’re going to rescue them. At least them.”_

Keith is so shocked, he almost slams into a tree.

Maybe he didn’t hear Lance correctly. Maybe the storm is interfering with their communication again.

But, he can’t be serious about rescuing Galra. Not just rebel Galra, either, or noncombatants, but actual _Galra soldiers_ who were stationed here to drain this horrible planet of its resources for their own evil purposes. Lance is forgiving to a fault, but even this is on a level beyond his usual trusting naïveté.

They come up on another Galra facility, much, much smaller than the compound they were in earlier. Instead of stealth, however, Lance jumps out of his speeder with bayard rifle already in his hands and charges through the door. Unsurprisingly, a Ciyaran guard screeches in surprise, a garbled sound like a geyser about to erupt, which is appropriate because the alien actual does explode when Lance shoots its head off, dark goo flying in all directions.

Three pairs of golden eyes stare at the approaching Paladins in shock from behind a magnetic energy screen that prevents them from escaping their cage. Stripped of their armor, their differences are apparent. Two of them are smaller, reptilian, with small horns and gray-purple scales. The third is much taller with fur and large feline-like ears.

“Voltron Paladins,” she remarks dryly, and the other two hiss behind her. “This is an interesting turn of events.”

“We’re here to rescue you,” Lance replies and there’s no smart remark, no flourish, no flirting.

“Seriously?” Keith and the Galra say at the same time.

“Stand back.”

“Lance, wait!”

Keith grabs Lance’s rifle before he can shoot the lock open and bust them out. “Think about what you’re doing!” he exclaims. “Freeing Galra?”

“The Ciyarans eat Galra, Keith!” Lance fires back just as heatedly. “Nobody deserves to die in such an awful way, no matter what they’ve done! At the very least, we can give them a fighting chance!” And he tears away from Keith’s grip to shoot the lock open. The screen falls away immediately, but the three Galra remain seated in surprise. The female, especially.

“You really are saving us,” she says, one ear flicking.

The other two seem to register what just happened for they now leap to their feet and rush past the Paladins without stopping, shouting over their shoulders, “C’mon, Lishk, or we’re leaving your ass behind!”

But she doesn’t move for a second, and she stares hard at Keith. He steps closer to Lance and growls a warning, and it’s pretty obvious she knows exactly what he is. Her ears flatten a little as she cautiously steps around them before running off into the storm.

“What was that about?” Lance mutters.

“I should be asking you that,” Keith retorts. “What is going on in that head of yours!?”

“Galra or not, I’ll save who I can. I couldn’t just leave them like that.”

“You absolutely – “

 _ **“Are you two defying orders again!?”**_ Allura screeches in their helmets. _“Get back to the Castle this instant! Coran is going to release a low-altitude magnetic pulse that will destroy all the Galra technology on this planet so the Ciyarans cannot use it against each other anymore. But there’s no telling if this pulse will have an adverse effect on your Lions. You need to get out of there immediately. MOVE!”_

The pair say nothing more, leaving the conversation for back at the Castle as they jump on their speeders and return to their Lions. Keith is tempted to say something to Lance over the private channel, but he’s not entirely sure what.

Sure, he understands where Lance is coming from. Compassion is one of Lance’s stronger points, befitting the Paladin of trust and mercy.

But in a war like this, where the stakes are so high, where the universe hangs in the balance, there’s just no room for such gentle idealism.

Keith swallows with worry as he watches Lance race ahead him, lightning from the storm above flashing bright against vivid blue.

Once Lance realizes that truth, it’ll _break_ him. And Keith won’t be able to protect him.

**Author's Note:**

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